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MARMION 



ftmttatife 



IN SIX CANTOS. 



MARMION; 

A TALE 

OF FLODDEN FIELD. 

by g J~ 

WALTER SCOTT, Esq. 

m 

THE FOURTH EDITION. 



Alas ! that Scottish Maid should sing 
The combat where her lover Jell J 

That Scottish Bard should wake the string, 
The triumph of our foes to tell / — Leyden. 



EDINBURGH : 



PRINTED BY J. BALLANTYNE AND CO. 

FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY, EDINBURGH J 

AND WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEM A RLE-STREET, 

AND JOHN MURRAY, LONDON. 

1808. 






1* 



c 










. 



TO 
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

HENRY, 

LORD MONTAGU, 

fyc. fyc. fyc. 
THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



IT is hardly to be expected, that an Author, whom the 
Public has honoured with some degree of applause, should 
not be again a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the Author 
of Marmion must be supposed to feel some anxiety concern- 
ing its success, since he is sensible that he hazards, by this se- 
cond intrusion, any reputation which his first Poem may have 
procured him. The present Story turns upon the private ad- 
ventures of a fictitious character ; but is called a Tale of 
Flodden Field, because the hero's fate is connected with that 
memorable defeat, and the causes which led to it. The de- 
sign of the Author was, if possible, to apprize his readers, at 
the outset, of the date of his Story, and to prepare them for 
the manners of the Age in which it is laid. Any Historical 
narrative, far more an attempt at Epic composition, exceeded 
his plan of a Romantic Tale ; yet he may be permitted to 
hope, from the popularity of The Lay of the. Last Min- 
strel, that an attempt to paint the manners of the feudal 
times, upon a broader scale, and in the course of a more in- 
teresting story, will not be unacceptable to the Public. 

The Poem opens about the commencement of August, and 
concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 9th September, 1513. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

Introduction to Canto I. . . To William Stewart Rose, Esq. 1 

CANTO I. The Castle, 21 

Introduction to CantoIL . To the Rev. John Marriot, M. A. 57 

II. The Convent, 75 

Introduction to Canto III. To William Erskine, Esq, . . 115 

III. The Hostel, or Inn, 131 

Introduction to Canto IV. . To James Skene, Esq 169 

IV. The Camp, 183 

Introduction to Canto V. . . To George Ellis, Esq 225 

V. The Court, 239 

Introduction to Canto VI. . To Richard IIeber, Esq. . . 297 
VI. The Battle, 313 

Notes to Canto First, i 

Canto Second xxxiii 

Canto Third lv 

Canto Fourth lxv 

Canto Fifth lxxix 

Canto Sixth ■ ci 



MARMION. 



Intm&Hctton to Canto $k$u 



TO 



WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, Esq. 

Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest. 

November's sky is chill and drear, 

November's leaf is red and sear : 

Late, gazing down the steepy linn, 

That hems our little garden in, 

Low in its dark and narrow glen, 

You scarce the rivulet might ken, 

So thick the tangled green-wood grew, 

So feeble trilled the streamlet through ; 

Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen 

Through bush and brier, no longer green, 

8 



INTRODUCTION 

An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, 
Brawls over rock and wild cascade, 
And, foaming brown with doubled speed, 
Hurries its waters to the Tweed. 

No longer Autumn's glowing red 
Upon our Forest hills is shed ; 
No more, beneath the evening beam, 
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam ; 
Away hath passed the heafher-beli, 
That bloomed so rich on Needpath-fell ; 
Sallow his brow, and russet bare 
Are now the sister-heights of Yare. 
The sheep, before the pinching heaven, 
To sheltered dale and down are driven, 
Where yet some faded herbage pines, 
And yet a watery sun-beam shines : 
In meek despondency they eye 
The withered sward and wintry sky, 



TO CANTO FIRST. 

And far beneath their summer hill, 
Stray sadly by Glenkinnon's rill : 
The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold, 
And wraps him closer from the cold ; 
His dogs no merry circles wheel, 
But, shivering, follow at his heel ; 
A cowering glance they often cast, 
As deeper moans the gathering blast. 

My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild, 
As best befits the mountain child, 
Feel the sad influence of the hour, 
And wail the daisy's vanished flower ; 
Their summer gambols tell, and mourn, 
And anxious ask, — Will spring return, 
And birds and lambs again be gay, 
And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray ? 

Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower 
Again shall paint your summer bower ; 



INTRODUCTION 

Again the hawthorn shall supply 
The garlands you delight to tie ; 
The lambs upon the lea shall bound, 
The wild birds carol to the round, 
And while you frolic light as they, 
Too short shall seem the summer day. 

To mute and to material things 
New life revolving summer brings ; 
The genial call dead Nature hears, 
And in her glory re-appears. 
But Oh ! my country's wintry state 
What second spring shall renovate ? 
What powerful call shall bid arise 
The buried warlike, and the wise ; 
The mind, that thought for Britain's weal, 
The hand, that grasped the victor steel ? 
The vernal sun new life bestows 
Even on the meanest flower that blows j 



TO CANTO FIRST. 

But vainly, vainly, may he shine, 
Where Glory weeps o'er Nelson's shrine; 
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom, 
That shrouds, O Pitt, thy hallowed tomb ! 

Deep graved in every British hearty 
O never let those names depart ! 
Say to your sons, — Lo, here his grave, 
Who victor died on Gadite wave ; 
To him, as to the burning levin, 
Short, bright, resistless course was given ; 
Where'er his country's foes were found, 
Was heard the fated thunders sound, 
Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, 
Rolled, blazed, destroyed, — and was no more. 

Nor mourn ye less his perished worth, 
Who bade the conqueror go forth, 
And launched that thunderbolt of war 
On Egypt, Hafnia,* Trafalgar ; 

* Copenhagen. 



8 INTRODUCTION 

Who, born to guide such high emprize, 
For Britain's weal was early wise ; 
Alas ! to whom the Almighty gave, 
For Britain's sins, an early grave ; 
His worth, who, in his mightiest hour, 
A bauble held the pride of power, 
Spurned at the sordid lust of pelf, 
And served his Albion for herself ; 
Who, when the frantic crowd amain 
Strained at subjection's bursting rein, 
O'er their wild mood full conquest gained, 
The pride, he would not crush, restrained, 
Shewed their fierce zeal a worthier cause, 
And brought the freeman's arm to aid the free- 
man's laws. 

Had'st thou but lived, though stripp'd of power, 
A watchman on the lonely tower, 
Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, 
When fraud or ganger were at hand ; 



TO CANTO FIRST. 1 

By thee, as by the beacon-light, 

Our pilots had kept course aright ; 

As some proud column, though alone, 

Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne. 

Now is the stately column broke, 

The beacon-light is quenched in smoke, 

The trumpet's silver sound is still, 

The warder silent on the hill ! 

Oh, think, how to his latest day, 
When Death, just hovering, claimed his prey, 
With Palinure's unaltered mood, 
Firm at his dangerous post he stood ; 
Each call for needful rest repelled, 
With dying hand the rudder held, 
Till, in his fall, with fateful sway, 
The steerage of the realm gave way ! 
Then, while on Britain's thousand plains, 
One unpolluted church remains, 
Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around 
The bloody tocsin's maddening sound, 



10 INTRODUCTION 

But still, upon the hallowed day, 
Convoke the swains to praise and pray ; 
While faith and civil peace are dear, 
Grace this cold marble with a tear, — 
He, who preserved them, Pitt, lies here ! 

Nor yet suppress the generous sigh. 
Because his Rival slumbers nigh ; 
Nor be thy requiescat dumb, 
Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb. 
For talents mourn, untimely lost, 
When best employed, and wanted most ; 
Mourn genius high, and lore profound, 
And wit that loved to play, not wound ; 
And all the reasoning powers divine, 
To penetrate, resolve, combine ; 
And feelings keen, and fancy's glow, — 
They sleep with him who sleeps below : 
And, if thou mourn'st they could not save 
From error him who owns this grave, 
Be every harsher thought suppressed, 
And sacred be the last long rest, 



TO CANTO FIRST. 

Here, where the end of earthly things 
Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings ; 
Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue, 
Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung ; 
Here, where the fretted aisles prolong 
The distant notes of holy song, 
As if some angel spoke agen, 
All peace on earth, good-will to men ; 
If ever from an English heart, 
O here let prejudice depart, 
And, partial feeling cast aside, 
Record, that Fox a Briton died ! 
When Europe crouched to France's yoke.. 
And Austria bent, and Prussia broke, 
And the firm Russian's purpose brave 
Was bartered by a timorous slave, 
Even then dishonour's peace he spurned, 
The sullied olive-branch returned, 
Stood for his country's glory fasty 
And nailed her colours to the mast. 



19 INTRODUCTION 

Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave 
A portion in this honoured grave ; 
And ne'er held marble in its trust 
Of two such wonderous men the dust. 

With more than mortal powers endowed, 
How high they soared above the crowd ! 
Theirs was no common party race, 
Jostling by dark intrigue for place ; 
Like fabled Gods, their mighty war 
Shook realms and nations in its jar ; 
Beneath each banner proud to stand, 
Looked up the noblest of the land, 
Till through the British world were known 
The names of Pitt and Fox alone. 
Spells of such force no wizard grave 
E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave, 
Though his could drain the ocean dry, 
And force the planets from the sky. 
These spells are spent, and, spent with these, 
The wine of life is on the lees. 



TO CANTO FIRST. 13 

Genius, and taste, and talent gone, 

For ever tombed beneath the stone, 

Where, — taming thought to human pride !— 

The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. 

Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 

'Twill trickle to his rival's bier ; 

O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sounds 

And Fox's shall the notes reboundc 

The solemn echo seems to cry, — 

" Here let their discord with them die ; 

" Speak not for those a separate doom, 

" Whom Fate made brothers in the tomb, 

" But search the land of living men, 

ee Where wilt thou find their like agenf 

Rest, ardent Spirits ! till the cries 
Of dying Nature bid you rise \ 
Not even your Britain's groans can pierce 
The leaden silence of your hearse : 
Then, O how impotent and vain 
This grateful tributary strain ! 



14 INTRODUCTION 

Though not unmarked from northern clime, 
Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme : 
His Gothic harp has o'er you rung; 
The bard you deigned to praise, your deathless 
names has sung. 

Stay yet, illusion, stay a while, 
My wildered fancy still beguile ! 
From this high theme how can I part, 
Ere half unloaded is my heart ! 
For all the tears e'er sorrow drew, 
And all the raptures fancy knew, 
And all the keener rush of blood, 
That throbs through bard in bard-like mood, 
Were here a tribute mean and low, 
Though all their mingled streams could flow — • 
Woe, wonder, and sensation high, 
In one spring-tide of extacy, — 
It will not be — it may not last — 
The vision of enchantment's past : 



TO CANTO FIRST. 15 

Like frost-work in the morning ray, 
The fancied fabric melts away ; 
Each Gothic arch, memorial stone, 
And long* dim, lofty aisle, are gone, 
And, lingering last, deception dear. 
The choir's high sounds die on my ear. 
Now slow return the lonely down, 
The silent pastures bleak and brown, 
The farm begirt with copse-wood wild, 
The gambols of each frolic child, 
Mixing their shrill cries with the tone 
Of Tweed's dark waters rushing on. 

Prompt on unequal tasks to run, 
Thus Nature disciplines her son : 
Meeter, she says, for me to stray, 
And waste the solitary day, 
In plucking from yon fen the reed, 
And watch it floating down the Tweed ; 
Or idly list the shrilling lay 
With which the milk-maid cheers her way, 



16 INTRODUCTION 

Marking its cadence rise and faily 
As from the field, beneath her pail, 
She trips it down the uneven dale : 
Meeter for me ; by yonder cairn, 
The ancient shepherd's tale to learn^ 
Though oft he stop in rustic fear, 
Lest his old legends tire the ear 
Of one, who, in his simple mind, 
May boast of book-learned taste refined. 

But thou, my friend, canst fitly tell, 

(For few have read romance so well) 

How still the legendary lay 

O'er poet's bosom holds its sway ; 

How on the ancient minstrel strain 

Time lays his palsied hand in vain ; 

And how our hearts at doughty deeds, 

By warriors wrought in steely weeds, 

Still throb for fear and pity's sake ; 

As when the Champion of the Lake 
1 



TO CANTO FIRST. IT 

Enters Morgana's fated house, 
Or in the Chapel Perilous, 
Despising spells and demons' force, 
Holds converse with the unburied corse ; 
Or when, Dame Ganore's grace to move, 
(Alas ! that lawless was their love) 
He sought proud Tarquin in his den, 
And freed full sixty knights ; or when, 
A sinful man, and unconfessed, 
He took the Sangreal's holy quest, 
And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
He might not view with waking eye. 

The mightiest chiefs of British song 
Scorned not such legends to prolong : 
They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream, 
And mix in Milton's heavenly theme ; 
And Dryden, in immortal strain, 
Had raised the Table Round again, 

B 



IS INTRODUCTION 

But that a ribald king and court 
Bade him toil on, to make them sport ; 
Demanded for their niggard pay, 
Fit for their souls, a looser lay, 
Licentious satire, song, and play : 
The world defrauded of the high design, 
Prophaned the God-given strength, and marred 
the lofty line. 

Warmed by such names, well may we then, 
Though dwindled sons of little men, 
Essay to break a feeble lance 
In the fair fields of old romance ; 
Or seek the moated castle's cell, 
Where long through talisman and spell, 
While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept, 
Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept : 
There sound the harpings of the North, 
Till he awake and sally forth, 



IS 



TO CAN TO FIRST. 19 

On venturous quest to prick again, 
In all his arms, with all his train, 
Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, and scarf, 
Fay, giant, dragon, squire, and dwarf, 
And wizard with his wand of might, 
And errant maid on palfrey white. 
Around the Genius weave their spells, 
Pure Love, who scarce his passion tells ; 
Mystery, half veiled and half revealed ; 
And Honour, with his spotless shield ; 
Attention, with fixed eye ; and Fear, 
That loves the tale she shrinks to hear; 
And gentle Courtesy ; and Faith, 
Unchanged by sufferings, time, or death ; 
And Valour, lion-mettled lord, 
Leaning upon his own good sword. 

Well has thy fair achievement shown, 
A worthy meed may thus be won ; 



20 INTRODUCTION, &c. 

Ytene's # oaks — beneath whose shade 

Their theme the merry minstrels made, 

Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold, 

And that Red King,f who, while of old, 

Through Boldrewood the chase he led, 

By his loved huntsman's arrow bled — 

Ytene's oaks have heard again 

Renewed such legendary strain ; 

For thou hast sung, how He of Gaul, 

That Amadis so famed in hall, 

For Oriana, foiled in fight 

The Necromancer's felon might ; 

And well in modern verse hast wove 

Partenopex's mystic love : 

Hear then, attentive to my lay, 

A knightly tale of Albion's elder day. 



* The New Forest in Hampshire, anciently so called, 
f William Rufus, 



MARMION 



CANTO FIRST. 



•&fie €mfa 






MARMION. 



CANTO FIRST. 



®8e Cmlt* 



I. 

Day set on Norham's castled steep, 
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, 

And Cheviot's mountains lone : 
The battled towers, the Donjon Keep, 
The loop-bole grates where captives weep, 
The flanking walls that round it sweep, 

In yellow lustre shone. 



24 MARMION. ca 

The warriors on the turrets high, 
Moving athwart the evening sky, 

Seemed forms of giant height : 
Their armour, as it caught the rays, 
Flashed back again the western blaze, 

In lines of dazzling light. 

II. 

St George's banner, broad and gay, 
Now faded, as the fading ray 

Less bright, and less, was flung ; 
The evening gale had scarce the power 
To wave it on the Donjon tower, 

So heavily it hung. 
The scouts had parted on their search, 

The castle gates were barr'd ; 
Above the gloomy portal arch, 
Timing his footsteps to a march, 

The warder kept his guard ; 
Low humming, as he paced along, 
Some ancient Border gathering-song. 



canto I. THE CASTLE. 25 

III. 

A distant trampling sound he hears 
He looks abroad, and soon appears, 
O'er Horncliff-hill, a plump # of spears, 

Beneath a pennon gay ; 
A horseman, darting from the crowd, 
Like lightning from a summer cloud, 
Spurs on his mettled courser proud, 

Before the dark array. 
Beneath the sable palisade, 
That closed the castle barricade, 

His bugle-horn he blew ; 
The warder hasted from the wall, 
And warned the Captain in the hall, 

JFor well the blast he knew ; 
And joyfully that Knight did call, 
To sewer, squire, and seneschal. 

* This word properly applies to a flight of water-fowl; 
but is applied, by analogy, to a body of horse. 

There is a Knight of the North Country, 
Which leads a lusty plump of spears. 

Flodden Field. 



SG MARMION. c. 

IV. 

H Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, 

Bring pasties of the doe, 
And quickly make the entrance free, 
And bid my heralds ready be, 
And every minstrel sound his glee, 

And all our trumpets blow ; 
And, from the platform, spare ye not 
To fire a noble salvo-shot : 

Lord Marmion waits below." — 
Then to the Castle's lower ward 

Sped forty yeomen tall, 
The iron-studded gates unbarred, 
Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard, 
The lofty palisade unsparred, 

And let the draw-bridge fall. 

V. 
Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, 
Proudly his red-roan charger trod, 



banto i. THE CASTLE. 21 

His helm hung at the saddle-bow ; 

Well, by his visage, you might know 

He was a stalworth knight, and keen. 

And had in many a battle been ; 

The scar on his brown cheek revealed 

A token true of Bosworth field ; 

His eye-brow dark, and eye of fire, 

Shewed spirit proud, and prompt to ire ; 

Yet lines of thought upon his cheek, 

Did deep design and counsel speak. 
His forehead, by his casque worn bare, 
His thick moustache, and curly hair, 
Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, 

But more through toil than age ; 
His square-turned joints, and strength of limb, 
Shewed him no carpet knight so trim, 
But, in close fight, a champion grim ; 
In camps, a leader sage. 



28 « MARMION. canto 

VI. 

Well armed was he from head to heel, 

In mail, and plate, of Milan steel ; 

But his strong helm, of mighty cost, 

Was all with burnished gold emboss'd ; 

Amid the plumage of the crest, 

A falcon hovered on her nest, 

With wings outspread, and forward breast; 

E'en such a falcon, on his shield, 

Soared sable in an azure field : 

The golden legend bore aright, 

M&o c&ecfcg at me, to toatfi fe U$& 

Blue was the charger's broidered rein ; 
Blue ribbons decked his arching mane ; 
The knightly housing's ample fold 
Was velvet blue, and trapped with gold. 

VII. 

Behind him rode two gallant squires, 
Of noble name, and knightly sires ; 



anto i. THE CASTLE. 29 

They burned the gilded spurs to claim ; 
For well could each a war-horse tame, 
Could draw the bow, the sword could sway, 
And lightly bear the ring away ; 
Nor less with courteous precepts stored, 
Could dance in hall, and carve at board, 
And frame love ditties passing rare, 
And sing them to a lady fair. 

VIII. 

Four men-at-a,Ems came at their backs, 

With halbert, bill, and battle-axe : 

They bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, 

And led his sumpter mules along, 

And ambling palfrey, when at need 

Him listed ease his battle-steed. 

The last, and trustiest of the four, 

On high his forky pennon bore ; 

Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, 

Fluttered the streamer glossy blue, 



30 MARMION. gani 

Where, blazoned sable, as before, 
The towering falcon seemed to soar. 
Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, 
In hosen black, and jerkins blue, 
With falcons broidered on each breast, 
Attended on their lord's behest. 
Each, chosen for an archer good, 
Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood ; 
Each one a six-foot bow could bend, 
And far a cloth-yard shaft could send ; 
Each held a boar-spear tough and strong, 
And at their belts their quivers rung. 
Their dusty palfreys, and array, 
Shewed they had marched a weary way. 

IX. 

'Tis meet that I should tell you now, 
How fairly armed, and ordered how, 
The soldiers of the guard, 



tfTO I. THE CASTLE. 31 

With musquet, pike, and morion, 
To welcome noble Marmion, 

Stood in the Castle-yard ; 
Minstrels and trumpeters were there, 
The gunner held his linstock yare, 

For welcome-shot prepared : — 
Entered the train, and such a clang, 
As then through all his turrets rang, 

Old Norham never heard. 

X. 

The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, 

The trumpets flourished brave, 
The cannon from the ramparts glanced, 

And thundering welcome gave. 
A blythe salute, in martial sort, 

The minstrels well might sound, 
For, as Lord Marmion crossed the court, 

He scattered angels round. 



32 MARMION. canto i 

" Welcome to Norham, Marmion ! 

Stout heart, and open hand ! 
Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, 

Thou flower of English land !" 

XI. 

Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, 
With silver scutcheon round their neck, 

Stood on the steps of stone, 
By which you reach the Donjon gate, 
And there, with herald pomp and state, 

They hailed Lord Marmion : 
They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, 

Of Tarn worth tower and town ; 
And he, their courtesy to requite, 
Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight, 

All as he lighted down. 






canto i. THE CASTLE. 33 

! 
a Now largesse, largesse,* Lord Marmipn, 

Knight of the crest of gold ! 

A blazon'd shield, in battle won, 

Ne'er guarded heart so bold." — 

XIL 

They marshalFd him to the castle-hall, 

Where the guests stood all aside, 
And loudly flourished the trumpet-call, 

And the heralds loudly cried, — 
" Room, lordings, room for Lord Marmion, 

With the crest and helm of gold ! 
Full well we know the trophies won 

In the lists at Cottiswold : 
There, vainly, Ralph de Wilton strove 

'Gainst Marmion's force to stand ; 
To him he lost his ladye-love, 

And to the king his land. 



* The cry by which the heralds expressed their thanks 
for the bounty of the nobles. 



34 MARMION. canto i. 

Ourselves beheld the listed field, 

A sight both sad and fair ; 
We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, 

And saw his saddle bare ; 
We saw the victor win the crest, 

He wears with worthy pride ; 
And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, 

His foeman's scutcheon tied. 
Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight ! 

Room, room, ye gentles gay, 
For him who conquered in the right, 

Marmion of Fontenaye !" — 

XIII. 

Then stepped to meet that noble lord 

Sir Hugh the Heron bold, 
Baron of Twisell, and of Ford, 

And Captain of the Hold. 
He led Lord Marmion to the deas, 

Raised o'er the pavement high, 






CANTO I. 



THE CASTLE. 3% 



And placed him in the upper place— 

They feasted full and high : 
The whiles a Northern harper rude 
Chaunted a rhyme of deadly feud, 

ce How the fierce Thirwalk,. and Ridleys all. 
Stout Willimondswick, 
And Hard-riding Dick, 
And Hughie of Hawdon> and Will o' the Wall, 
Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh, 
And taken his life at the Deadmans-shaw." — * 
Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook 

The harper's barbarous lay ; 
Yet much he praised the pains he took, 
And well those pains did pay ; 
For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, 
By knight should ne'er be heard in vain. 

XIV. 

u Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, 
<€ Of your fair courtesy, 

* The rest of this old ballad may be found in the note. 



36 MARMION. canto 

I pray you bide some little space, 

In this poor tower with me. 
Here may you keep your arms from rust, 

May breathe your war-horse well ; 
Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust 

Or feat of arms befell : 
The Scots can rein a mettled steed, 

And love to couch a spear ; — 
St George ! a stirring life they lead, 

That have such neighbours near. 
Then stay with us a little space, 

Our northern wars to learn ; 
I pray you for your lady's grace." — 

Lord Marmion's brow grew stern. 

XV. 
The Captain marked his altered look, 

And gave a squire the sign ; 
A mighty wassell bowl he took, 

And crown'd it high with wine. 









canto i. THE CASTLE. 37 

cf JNow pledge me here, Lord Marmion : 

But first I pray thee fair. 
Where has thou left that page of thine, 
That used to serve thy cup of wine, 

Whose beauty was so rare ? 
When last in Raby towers we met, 

The boy I closely eyed, 
And often marked his cheeks were wet 

With tears he fain would hide : 
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, 
To burnish shield, or sharpen brand, 

Or saddle battle-steed ; 
But meeter seemed for lady fair, 
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair, 
Or through embroidery, rich and rare, 

The slender silk to lead : 
His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, 

His bosom — when he sigh'd, 
The russet doublet's rugged fold 

Could scarce repel its pride ! 



MARMIOK. can] 

Say, /last thou given that lovely youth 

To serve in lady's bower ? 
Or was the gentle page, in sooth, 

A gentle paramour ?" — 

XVI. 
Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; 

He rolled his kindling eye, 
With pain his rising wrath suppressed, 

Yet made a calm reply : 
" That boy thou thought's! so goodly fair, 

He might not brook the northern air. 
More of his fate if thou would'st learn, 

I left him sick in Lindisfarn : 
Enough of him. — But, Heron, say, 

Why does thy lovely lady gay 
Disdain to grace the hall to-day? 
Or has that dame, so fair and sage, 
Gone on some pious pilgrimage ?" — 



canto i. THE CASTLE. 

He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 
Whispered light tales of Heron's dame. 

XVII. 

Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt, 

Careless the Knight replied, 
" No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt, 

Delights in cage to bide : 
Norham is grim, and grated close, 
Hemmed in by battlement and fosse, 

And many a darksome tower ; 
And better loves my lady bright, 
To sit in liberty and light, 

In fair Queen Margaret's bower. 
We hold our greyhound in our hand, 

Our falcon on our glove ; 
But where shall we find leash or band, 

For dame that loves to rove ? 
Let the wild falcon soar her swing, 
She'll stoop when she has tired her wing "- 

7 



40 MARMIOtf. canto r. 

XVIII. 

" Nay, if with Royal James's bride, 

The lovely Lady Heron bide, 

Behold me here a messenger, 

Your tender greetings prompt to bear ; 

For, to the Scottish court addressed, 

I journey at our king's behest, 

And pray you, of your grace, provide 

For me, and mine, a trusty guide. 

I bave not ridden in Scotland since 

James backed the cause of that mock prince, 

Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, 

Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. 

Then did I march with Surrey's power, 

What time we razed old Ayton tower." — 

XIX. 

a For such like need, my lord, I trow, 
Norham can find you guides enow ; 



canto i. THE CASTLE. 41 

For here be some have pricked as far 
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar ; 
Have drunk the monks of St Bothan's ale, 
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, 
And given them light to set their hoods." — 

XX. 

u Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried, 

" Were I in warlike-wise to ride, 

A better guard I would not lack, 

Than your stout forayers at my back : 

But, as in form of peace I go, 

A friendly messenger, to know, 

Why through all Scotland, near and far, 

Their king is mustering troops for war, 

The sight of plundering Border spears 

Might justify suspicious fears ; 

And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 

Break out in some unseemly broil : 



42 MARMION. canto i. 

A herald were my fitting guide ; 
Or friar, sworn in peace to bide ; 
Or pardoner, or travelling priest, 
Or strolling pilgrim, at the least " — 

XXI. 

The Captain mused a little space, 

And passed his hand across his face. 

— " Fain would I find the guide you want, 

But ill may spare a pursuivant, 

The only men that safe can ride 

Mine errands on the Scottish side : 

And, though a bishop built this fort, 

Few holy brethren here resort ; 

Even our good chaplain, as I ween, 

Since our last siege, we have not seen : 

The mass he might not sing or say, 

Upon one stinted meal a day ; 

So, safe he sat in Durham aisle, 

And prayed for our success the while. 



canto ii THE CASTLE. 43 

Our Norham vicar, woe betide, 
Is all too well in case to ride. 
The priest of Shoreswood — he could rein 
The wildest war-horse in your train ; 
But then, no spearman in the hall 
Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. 
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man> 
A blythsome brother at the can, 
A welcome guest in hall and bower, 
He knows each castle, town, and tower, 
In which the wine and ale is good, 
? Twixt Newcastle and Holy-rood-, 
But that good man, as ill befak, 
Hath seldom left our castle walls, 
Since on the vigil of St Bede, 
In evil hour he crossed the Tweed, 
To teach Dame Alison her creed. 
Old Bughtrig found him with his wife; 
And John, an enemy to strife, 
Sans frock and hood fled for his life. 



44 MARMION. canto i. 

The jealous churl hath deeply swore, 
That* if again he ventures o'er, 
He shall shrieve penitent no more. 
Little he loves such risques, I know ; 
Yet, in your guard, perchance will go." — 

XXII. 

Young Selby, at the fair-hall board 
Carved to his uncle, and that lord, 
And reverently took up the word. 
" Kind uncle, woe were we each one, 
If harm should hap to brother John. 
He is a man of mirthful speech, 
Can many a game and gambol teach ; 
Full well at tables can he play, 
And sweep at bowls the stake away. 
None can a lustier carol bawl, 
The needfullest among us all, 
When time hangs heavy in the hall, 



CAJTTO I. 



THE CASTLE. 45 



And snow comes thick at Christmas tide, 
And we can neither hunt, nor ride 
A foray on the Scottish side. 
The vowed revenge of Bughtrig rude, 
May end in worse than loss of hood. 
Let Friar John, in safet}^ still 
In chimney-corner snore his fill, 
Roast hissing crabs, or flaggons swill : 
Last night, to Norham there came one, 
Will better guide Lord Marmion.' , — 
" Nephew," quoth Heron, " by my fay, 
Well hast thou spoke ; say forth thy say."— 

XXIII. 

" Here is a holy Palmer come, 
From Salem first, and last from Rome; 
One, that hath kissed the blessed tomb, 
And visited each holy shrine, 
In Araby and Palestine ; 



46 MARiMION. ganto 

On hills of Armenie hath been, 
Where Noah's ark may yet be seen ; 
By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod, 
Which parted at the prophet's rod ; 
In Sinai's wilderness he saw 
The Mount, where Israel heard the law, 
Mid thunder- dint, and flashing levin, 
And shadows, mists, and darkness, given. 

He shews Saint James's cockle-shell, 

Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell ; 
And of that Grot where Olives nod, 

Where, darling of each heart and eye, 

From all the youth of Sicily, 
Saint Rosalie retired to God. 

XXIV. 
w To stout Saint George of Norwich merry, 
Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, 
Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, 
For his sins' pardon hath he prayed, 






canto i. THE CASTLE. 4? 

He knows the passes of the North, 
And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth ; 
Little he eats, and long will wake, 
And drinks but of the stream or lake. 
This were a guide o'er moor and dale ; 
But, when our John hath quaffed his ale, 
As little as the wind that blows, 
And warms itself against his nose, 
Kens he, or cares, which way he goes." — 

XXV. 
" Gramercy !" quoth Lord Marmion, 
" Full loth were I that Friar John, 
That venerable man, for me, 
Were placed in fear or jeopardy. 
If this same Palmer will me lead 

From hence to Holy-Rood, 
Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed, 
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead, 
With angels fair and good. 



48 MARMION. canto i. 

I love such holy ramblers ; still 
They know to charm a weary hill, 

With song, romance, or lay : 
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest, 
Some lying legend at the least, 

They bring to cheer the way." — 

XXVI. 

" Ah ! noble sir," young Selby said, 

And ringer on his lip he laid, 

" This man knows much, perchance e'en more 

Than he could learn by holy lore. 

Still to himself he's muttering, 

And shrinks as at some unseen thing. 

Last night we listened at his cell; 

Strange sounds we heard, and sooth to tell, 

He murmured on till morn, howe'er 

No living mortal could be near. 

Sometimes I thought I heard it plain, 

As other voices spoke again. 

11 



canto i. THE CASTLE. 49 

I cannot tell — I like it not — 

Friar John hath told us it is wrote, 

No conscience clear, and void of wrong, 

Can res t awake, and pray so long. 

Himself still sleeps before his beads, 

Have marked ten aves, and two creeds." — 

XXVII. 

" — Let pass," quoth Marmion ; " by my fay, 
This man shall guide me on my way, 
Although the great arch-fiend and he 
Had sworn themselves of company ; 
So please you, gentle youth, to call 
This Palmer to the castle-hall." — 
The summoned Palmer came in place ; 
His sable cowl o'er-hung his face ; 
In his black mantle was he clad, 
With Peter's keys, in cloth of red, 
On his broad shoulders wrought ; 



50 MARMION. canto i. 

The scallop shell his cap did deck 

The crucifix around his neck 
Was from Loretto brought; 
His Sandals were with travel tore, 
Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore 
The faded palm-branch in his hand, 
Shewed pilgrim from the Holy Land. 

XXVIII. 

Whenas the Palmer came in hall, 

Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall, 

Or had a statelier step withal, 

Or looked more high and keen ; 
For no saluting did he wait, 
But strode across the hall of state, 
And fronted Marmion where he sate, 

As he his peer had been. 
But his gaunt frame was worn with toil ; 
His cheek was sunk, alas the while ! 



ITOI. THE CASTLE. 51 

And when he struggled at a smile, 

His eye looked haggard wild : 
Poor wretch ! the mother that him bare, 
If she had been in presence there, 
In his wan face, and sun-burned hair, 

She had not known her child. 
Danger, long travel, want, or woe, 
Soon change the form that best we know — 
For deadly fear can time outgo, 

And blaunch at once the hair ; 
Hard toil can roughen form and face, 
And want can quench the eye's bright grace, 
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace, 

More deeply than despair. 
Happy whom none of these befal, 
But this poor Palmer knew them all. 

XXIX. 

Lord Marmion then his boon did ask ; 
The Palmer took on him the task, 

4 



52 MARMION. canto i. 

So he would march with morning tide, 
To Scottish court to be his guide. 
— u But I have solemn vows to pay, 
And may not linger by the way, 

To fair St Andrew's bound, 
Within the ocean-cave to pray, 
Where good Saint Rule his holy lay, 
From midnight to the dawn of day, 

Sung to the billows' sound ; 
Thence to St Fillan's blessed well, 
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, 

And the crazed brain restore : 
Saint Mary grant that cave or spring 
Could back to peace my bosom bring, 

Or bid it throb no more !" — 

XXX. 

And now the midnight draught of sleep, 
Where wine and spices richly steep, 

1 



canto i. THE CASTLE. 53 

In massive bowl of silver deep, 

The page presents on knee. 
Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, 
The Captain pledged his noble guest, 
The cup went through among the rest, 

Who drained it merrily ; 
Alone the Palmer passed it bye. 
Though Selby pressed him courteously. 

This was the sign the feast was o'er; 

It hushed the merry wassel roar, 
The minstrels ceased to sound. 
Soon in the castle nought was heard, 
But the slow footstep of the guard, 
Pacing his sober round. 

XXXL 

With early dawn Lord Marmion rose : 
And first the chapel doors unclose ; 



54 MARMION. canto i. 

Then, after morning rites were done, 

(A hasty mass from Friar John,) 

And knight and squire had broke their fast, 

On rich substantial repast, 

Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse : 

Then came the stirrup-cup in course ; 

Between the Baron and his host, 

No point of courtesy was lost ; 

High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, 

Solemn excuse the Captain made, 

Till, filing from the gate, had past 

That noble train, their Lord the last. 

Then loudly rung the trumpet-call ; 

Thundered the cannon from the wall, 
And shook the Scottish shore ; 

Around the castle eddied slow, 

Volumes of smoke as white as snow, 
And hid its turrets hoar ; 



canto i. THE CASTLE. 55 

Till they rolled forth upon the air, 
And met the river breezes there, 
Which gave again the prospect fair. 



END OF CANTO FIRST, 



MARMION 



Stittoiuttiott to Canto Swonk 



C 59 J 



TO 



THE REV, JOHN HARRIOT, M.A. 



Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest. 

The scenes are desart now, and bare, 

Where flourished once a forest fair, 

When these waste glens with copse were lined, 

And peopled with the hart and hind. 

Yon thorn — perchance whose prickly spears 

Have fenced him for three hundred years, 

While fell around his green compeers — 

Yon lonely thorn, would he could tell 

The changes of his parent dell, 



60 INTRODUCTION 

Since he, so grey and stubborn now., 
Waved in each breeze a sapling bough ; 
Would he could tell how deep the shade, 
A thousand mingled branches made ; 
How broad the shadows of the oak, 
How clung the rowan* to the rock, 
And through the foliage shewed his head, 
With narrow leaves, and berries red ; 
What pines on every mountain sprung, 
O'er every dell what birches hung, 
In every breeze what aspens shook, 
What alders shaded every brook ! 

" Here, in my shade," methinks he'd say, 
e< The mighty stag at noontide lay : 
The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game, 
(The neighbouring dingle bears his name,) 
With lurching step around me prowl, 
And stop against the moon to howl ; 

* Mountain-ash. - 



TO CANTO SECOND. 6l 

The mountain boar, on battle set, 

His tusks upon my stem would whet ; 

While doe and roe, and red-deer good, 

Have bounded by through gay green-woodj 

Then oft, from Newark's riven tower, 

Sallied a Scottish monarch's power : 

A thousand vassals mustered round, 

With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound ; 

And I might see the youth intent, 

Guard every pass with cross-bow bent ; 

And through the brake the rangers stalk, 

And falc'ners hold the ready hawk ; 

And foresters, in green-wood trim, 

Lead in the leash the gaze-hounds grim> 

Attentive, as the bratcbet's* bay 

From the dark covert drove the prey, 

To slip them as he broke away. 

The startled quarry bounds amain, 

As fast the gallant grey-hounds strain 5 

* Slow-hound. 



m INTRODUCTION 

Whistles the arrow from the bow, 
Answers the harquebuss below; 
While all the rocking hills reply., 
To hoof-clang, hound, and hunters' cry, 
And bugles ringing lightsomely." — 

Of such proud huntings, many tales 
Yet linger in our lonely dales ; 
Up pathless Ettricke, and on Yarrow, 
Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow. 
But not more blythe that sylvan court, 
Than we have been at humbler sport ; . 
Though small our pomp, and mean our game, 
Our mirth, dear Marriot, was the same. 
Remember'st thou my grey-hounds true ? 
O'er holt, or hill, there never flew, 
From slip, or leash, there never sprang, 
More fleet of foot, or sure of fang. 
Nor dull, between each merry chase, 
Passed by the intermitted space ; 



TO CANTO SECOND. 

For we had fair resource in store, 
In Classic, and in Gothic lore : 
We marked each memorable scene, 
And held poetic talk between ; 
Nor hill, nor brook, we paced along, 
But had its legend, or its song. 
All silent now — for now are still 
Thy bowers, untenanted Bowhill ! 
No longer, from thy mountains dun, 
The yeoman hears the well-known gun, 
And while his honest heart glows warm, 
At thought of his paternal farm, 
Round to his mates a brimmer fills, 
And drinks, " The Chieftain of the hills 9 
No fairy forms, in Yarrow's bowers, 
Trip o'er the walks, or tend the flowers, 
Fair as the elves whom Janet saw, 
By moonlight dance on Carterhaugh ; 
No youthful baron's left to grace 
The Forest-Sheriff's lonely chace, 



64 INTRODUCTION 

And ape, in manly step and tone> 
The majesty of Oberon : 
And she is gone, whose lovely face 
Is but her least and lowest grace ; 
Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere giveny 
To shew our earth the charms of heaven, 
She could not glide along the air, 
With form more light, or face more fair. 
No more the widow's deafened ear 
Grows quick that lady's step to hear : 
At noontide she expects her not, 
Nor busies her to trim the cot; 
Pensive she turns her humming wheel, 
Or pensive cooks her orphan's meal; 
Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread, 
The gentle hand by which they're fed. 

From Yair, — which hills so closely bind, 
Scarce can the Tweed his passage findy 






TO CANTO SECOND. 65 

Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil, 
Till all his eddying currents boil, — 
Her long- descended lord is gone, 
And left us by the stream alone. 
And much I miss those sportive boys, 
Companions of my mountain joys, 
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, 
When thought is speech, and speech is truth. 
Close to my side, with what delight, 
They pressed to hear of Wallace wight, 
When, pointing to his airy mound, 
I called his ramparts holy ground ! * 
Kindled their brows to hear me speak ; 
And I have smiled, to feel my cheek, 
Despite the difference of our years, 
Return again the glow of theirs. 
Ah, happy boys ! such feelings pure, 
They will not, cannot long endure ; 



* There is, on a high mountainous ridge above the farm 
of Ashestiel, a fosse called Wallace's Trench. 



66 INTRODUCTION 

Condemned to stem the world's rude tide, 
You may not linger by the side ; 
For Fate shall thrust you from the shore, 
And Passion ply the sail and oar. 
Yet cherish the remembrance still, 
Of the lone mountain, and the rill ; 
For trust, dear boys, the time will come, 
When fiercer transport shall be dumb, 
And you will think right frequently, 
But, well I hope, without a sigh, 
On the free hours that we have spent, 
Together, on the brown hill's bent. 

When, musing on companions gone, 

We doubly feel ourselves alone, 

Something, my friend, we yet may gain, 

There is a pleasure in this pain : 

It soothes the love of lonely rest, 

Deep in each gentler heart impressed. 
10 



TO CANTO SECOND. & 

Tis silent amid worldly toils, 

And stifled soon by mental broils ; 

But, in a bosom thus prepared, 

Its still small voice is often heard, 

Whispering a mingled sentiment, 

'Twixt resignation and content. 

Oft in my mind such thoughts awake, 

By lone St Mary's silent lake ; 

Thou know'st it well, — nor fen, nor sedge, 

Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge. ; 

Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink 

At once upon the level brink ; 

And just a trace of silver sand 

Marks where the water meets the land. 

Far in the mirror, bright and blue, 

Each hill's huge outline you may view; 

Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare, ; 

Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake is there, 

Save where, of land, yon slender line 

Bears thwart the lake the scattered pine. 



68 INTRODUCTION 

Yet even this nakedness has power, 

And aids the feeling of the hour: 

Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy, 

Where living thing concealed might lie ; 

Nor point, retiring, hides a dell, 

Where swain, or woodman lone, might dwell ; 

There's nothing left to fancy's guess, 

You see that all is loneliness : 

And silence aids — though the steep hills 

Send to the lake a thousand rills ; 

In summer tide, so soft they weep, 

The sound hut lulls the ear asleep ; 

Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude, 

So stilly is the solitude. 

Nought living meets the eye or ear, 
But well I ween the dead are near ; 
For though, in feudal strife, a foe 
Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low, 



TO CANTO SECOND. ?>$ 

Yet still, beneath the hallowed soil, 
The peasant rests him from his toil, 
And, dying, bids his bones be laid, 
Where erst his simple fathers prayed. 

If age had tamed the passions' strife, 
And fate had cut my ties to life, 
Here, have I thought, 'twere sweet to dwell, 
And rear again the chaplain's cell, 
Like that same peaceful hermitage, 
Where Milton longed to spend his age. 
'Twere sweet to mark the setting day, 
On Bourhope's lonely top decay ; 
And, as it faint and feeble died, 
On the broad lake, and mountain's side, 
To say, ' ' Thus pleasures fade away ; 
Youth, talents, beauty thus decay, 
And leave us dark, forlorn, and grey ;" — 
Then gaze on Dryhope's ruined tower, 
And think on Yarrow's faded Flower: 



70 INTRODUCTION 

And when that mountain-sound I heard 

Which bids us be for storm prepared, — 

The distant rustling of his wings, 

As up his force the Tempest brings, — 

'Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors rave, 

To sit upon the Wizard's grave ; 

That Wizard Priest's, whose bones are thrust 

From company of holy dust ; 

On which no sun-beam ever shines — 

(So superstition's creed divines,) 

Thence view the lake, with sullen roar, 

Heave her broad billows to the shore ; 

And mark the wild swans mount the gale, 

Spread wide through mist their snowy sail, 

And ever stoop again, to lave 

Their bosoms on the surging wave : 

Then, when against the driving hail 

No longer might my plaid avail, 

Back to my lonely home retire, 

And light my lamp, and trim my fire : 



TO CANTO SECOND. 71 

There ponder o'er some mystic lay, 

Till the wild tale had all its sway, 

And, in the bittern's distant shriek, 

I heard unearthly voices speak, 

And thought the Wizard Priest was come, 

To claim again his ancient home ! 

And bade my busy fancy range, 

To frame him fitting shape and strange, 

Till from the task my brow I cleared, 

And smiled to think that I had feared. 

But chief, 'twere sweet to think such life, 
(Though but escape from fortune's strife,) 
Something most matchless good, and wise, 
A great and grateful sacrifice ; 
And deem each hour, to musing given, 
A step upon the road to heaven. 

Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease, 
Such peaceful solitudes displease : 



' n INTRODUCTION 

He loves to drown his bosom's jar 

Amid the elemental war : 

And my black Palmer's choice had been 

Some ruder and more savage scene, 

Like that which frowns round dark Lochskene. 

There eagles scream from isle to shore ; 

Down all the rocks the torrents roar ; 

O'er the black waves incessant driven, 

Dark mists infect the summer heaven ; 

Through the rude barriers of the lake, 

Away its hurrying waters break, 

Faster and whiter dash and curl, 

Till down yon dark abyss they hurl. 

Rises the fog-smoke white as snow, 

Thunders the viewless stream below, 

Diving, as if condemned to lave 

Some demon's subterranean cave, 

Who, prisoned by enchanter's spell, 

Shakes the dark rock with groan and yell. 



TO CANTO SECOND. IS 

And well that Palmer's form and mien 
Had suited with the stormy scene, 
Just on the edge, straining his ken 
To view the bottom of the den, 
Where, deep deep down, and far within, 
Toils with the rocks the roaring linn ; 
Then, issuing forth one foamy wave, 
And wheeling round the Giant's Grave, 
White as the snowy charger's tail, 
Drives down the pass of MofTatdale. 

Harriot, thy harp, on Isis strung, 
To many a Border theme has rung : 
Then list to me, and thou shalt know 
Of this mysterious Man of Woe. 



MARMION 



CANTO SECOND. 



%U Contont* 



£ 11 1 



MARMION 



CANTO SECOND. 



Cge Confcenc* 



I. 

The breeze, which swept away the smoke, 

Round Norham Castle rolled, 
When all the loud artillery spoke, 
With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke, 

As Marmion left the Hold. 
It curled not Tweed alone, that breeze, 
For, far upon Northumbrian seas, 

It freshly blew, and strong, 



78 MARMION. canto 

Where, from high Whitby's cloistered pile, 
Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle, 

It bore a bark along. 
Upon the gale she stooped her side, 
And bounded o'er the swelling tide, 

As she were dancing home ; 
The merry seamen laughed, to see 
Their gallant ship so lustily 

Furrow the green sea-foam. 
Much joyed they in their honoured freight; 
For, on the deck, in chair of state, 
The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed, 
With five fair nuns, the galley graced. 

II. 

'Twas sweet to see these holy maids, 
Like birds escaped to green-wood shades, 
Their first flight from the cage, 
How timid, and how curious too. 






canto n. THE CONVENT. W 

For all to them was strange and new, 
And all the common sights they view, 

Their wonderment engage. 
One eyed the shrouds and swelling sail/ 

With many a benedicite ; 
One at the rippling surge grew pale. 

And would for terror pray ; 
Then shrieked, because the sea-dog, nigh, 
His round black head, and sparkling eye, 

Reared o'er the foaming spray : 
And one would still adjust her veil, 
Disordered by the summer gale, 
Perchance lest some more worldly eye 
Her dedicated charms might spy; 
Perchance, because such action graced 
Her fair-turned arm and slender waist. 
Light was each simple bosom there, 
Save two, who ill might pleasure share,— 
The Abbess, and the novice Clare. 



80 MARMION. «an 

III. 

The Abbess was of noble blood, 

But early took the veil and hood, 

Ere upon life she cast a look, 

Or knew the world that she forsook. 

Fair too she was, and kind had been 

As she was fair, but ne'er had seen 

For her a timid lover sigh, 

Nor knew the influence of her eye ; 

Love, to her ear, was but a name, 

Combined with vanity and shame ; 

Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all 

Bounded within the cloister wall : 

The deadliest sin her mind could reach, 

Was of monastic rule the breach ; 

And her ambition's highest aim, 

To emulate Saint Hilda's fame. 

For this she gave her ample dower, 

To raise the convent's eastern tower ; 



canto ii. THE CONVENT. 81 

For this, with carving rare and quaint, 
She decked the chapel of the saint, 
And gave the relique-shrine of cost, 
With ivory and gems embost. 
The poor her convent's bounty blest, 
The pilgrim in its halls found rest. 

IV. 

Black was her garb, her rigid rule 
Reformed on Benedictine school ; 
Her cheek was pale, her form was spare ; 
Vigils, and penitence austere, 
Had early quenched the light of youth, 
But gentle was the dame in sooth ; 
Though vain of her religious sway, 
She loved to see her maids obey, 
Yet nothing stern was she in cell, 
And the nuns loved their Abbess well. 
Sad was this voyage to the dame ; 
Summoned to Lindisfarn, she came, 

F 



gg M ARMION. cant 

There, with Saint Cuthbert's Abbot old, 
And Tynemouth's Prioress, to hold 
A chapter of Saint Benedict, 
For inquisition stern and strict, 
On two apostates from the faith, 
And, if need were, to doom to death. 

V. 

Nought say I here of Sister Clare, 

Save this, that she was young and fair ; 

As yet a novice unprofessed, 

Lovely, and gentle, but distressed. 

She was betrothed to one now dead, 

Or worse, who had dishonoured fled. 

Her kinsmen bade her give her hand 

To one who loved her for her land : 

Herself, almost heart-broken now, 

Was bent to take the vestal vow, 

And shroud, within Saint Hilda's gloom, 

Her blasted hopes and withered bloom. 
1 



canto II. THE CONVENT. S3 

VI. 

She sate upon the galley's prow, 
And seemed to mark the waves below ; 
Nay seemed, so fixed her look and eye, 
To count them as they glided by. 
She saw them not — 'twas seeming all — ■ 
Far other scene her thoughts reeal, — 
A sun-scorched desart, waste and bare, 
Nor wave, nor breezes, murmured there ; 
There saw she, where some careless hand 
O'er a dead corpse had heaped the sand, 
To hide it till the jackalls come, 
To tear it from the scanty tomb. — 
See what a woeful look was given, 
As she raised up her eyes to heaven ! 

VII. 

Lovely^ and gentle, and distressed — 

These charms might tame the fiercest breast : 



84 MARMION. canto ii. 

Harpers have sung, and poets told, 

That he, in fury uncontrouled, 

The shaggy monarch of the wood, 

Before a virgin, fair and good, 

Hath pacified his savage mood. 

But passions in the human frame, 

Oft put the lion's rage to shame : 

And jealousy, by dark intrigue, 

With sordid avarice in league, 

Had practised with their bowl and knife, 

Against the mourner's harmless life. 

This crime was charged Against those who lay 

Prisoned in Cuthbert's islet gray. 

VIIL 

And now the vessel skirts the strand 
Of mountainous Northumberland ; 
Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise, 
And catch the nuns' delighted eyes. 



canto ii. THE CONVENT, 85 

Monk-Wearmquth soon behind them lay, 

And Tynemouth's priory and bay ; 

They marked, amid her trees, the hall 

Of lofty Seaton-Delaval ; 

They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods 

Rush to the sea through sounding woods ; 

They past the tower of Widderington, 

Mother of many a valiant son ; 

At Coquet- isle their beads they tell 

To the good Saint who owned the cell ; 

Then did the Alne attention claim, 

And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name ; 

And next, they crossed themselves, to hear 

The whitening breakers sound so near, 

Where, boiling through the rocks, they roar, 

On Dunstanborough's caverned shore ; 

Thy tower, proud Bamborough, marked they there 

King Ida's castle, huge and square, 

From its tall rock look grimly down, 

And on the swelling ocean frown ; 



86 MARMION. 

Then from the coast they bore away. 
And reached the Holy Island's bay. 

IX. 

The tide did now its flood-mark gain. 
And girdled in the Saint's domain : 
For, with the flow and ebb, its stile 
Varies from continent to isle ; 
Dry-shod, o'er sands, twice every day, 
The pilgrims to the shrine find way ; 
Twice every day, the waves efface 
Of staves and sandaled feet the trace. 
As to the port the galley flew, 
Higher and higher rose to view, 
The Castle with its battled walls, 
The ancient Monastery's halls, 
A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile, 
Placed on the margin of the isle. 



6Anto ii. THE CONVEN . ST 

X. 

In Saxon strength that Abbey frowned, 
With massive arches broad and round, 

That rose alternate, row and row, 

On ponderous columns, short and low, 
Built ere the art was known, 

By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk, 

The arcades of an alley'd walk 
To emulate in stone. 
On the deep walls, the heathen Dane 
Had poured his impious rage in vain ; 
And needful was such strength to these, 
Exposed to the tempestuous seas, 
Scourged by the wind's eternal sway, 
Open to rovers fierce as they, 
Which could twelve hundred years withstand 
Winds, waves, and northern pirates' hand. 
Not but that portions of the pile, 
Rebuilded in a later stile, 



83 MARMION. canto h. 

Shewed where the spoiler's hand had been ; 
Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen 
Had worn the pillar's carving quaint, 
And mouldered in his niche the saint, 
And rounded, with consuming power. 
The pointed angles of each tower : 
Yet still entire the Abbey stood, 
Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued. 

XL 

Soon as they neared his turrets strong, 
The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song, 
And with the sea-wave and the wind, 
Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined, 
And made harmonious close ; 
Then, answering from the sandy shore, 
Half-drowned amid the breakers' roar, 

According chorus rose : 
Down to the haven of the Isle, 
The monks and nuns in order file, 






c^nto li. THE CONVENT. 

From Cuthbert's cloisters grim ; 
Banner, and cross, and reliques there, 
To meet Saint Hilda's maids, they bare ; 
And, as they caught the sounds on air, 

They echoed back the hymn. 
The islanders, in joyous mood, 
Rushed emulously through the flood, 

To hale the bark to land ; 
Conspicuous by her veil and hood, 
Signing the cross, the Abbess stood, 

And blessed them with her hand. 

XII. 

Suppose we now the welcome said, 
Suppose the Convent banquet made: 

All through the holy dome ; 
Through cloister, aisle, and gallery, 
Wherever vestal maid might pry, 
Nor risk to meet unhallowed eye, 

The stranger sisters roam : 



90 MARMION. ca¥to 11. 

Till fell the evening damp with dew, 
And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew, 
For there, even summer night is chill. 
Then, having strayed and gazed their fill, 

They closed around the fire ; 
And all, in turn, essayed to paint 
The rival merits of their saint, 

A theme that ne'er can tire 
A holy maid ; for, be it known, 
That their saint's honour is their own. 

XILI. 

Then Whitby's nuns exulting told, 
How to their house three barons bold 

Must menial service do ; 
While horns blow out a note of shame, 
And monks cry " Fye upon your name I 
In wrath, for loss of sylvan game, 

Saint Hilda's priest ye slew/' 






canto II. THE CONVENT. 91 

<e This, on Ascension-day, each year, 
While labouring on our harbour-pier, 
Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear." 
They told, how in their convent cell 
A Saxon princess once did dwell, 

The lovely Edelfled ; 
And how, of thousand snakes, each one 
Was changed into a coil of stone, 

When holy Hilda prayed ; 
Themselves, within their holy bound, 
Their stony folds had often found. 
They told, how sea-fowls' pinions fail, 
As over Whitby's towers they sail, 
And, sinking down, with flutterings faint, 
They do their homage to the saint. 

XIV. 

Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail, 
To vie with these in holy tale ; 



92 MARMION. canto i 

His body's resting-place of old, 

How oft their patron changed, they told ; 

How, when the rude Dane burned their pile. 

The monks fled forth from Holy Isle ; 

O'er northern mountain, marsh, and moor, 

From sea to sea, from shore to shore, 

Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse they bore. 

They rested them in fair Melrose ; 
But though, alive, he loved it well, 

Not there his reliques might repose ; 
For, wond'rous tale to tell ! 

In his stone-coffin forth he rides, 

(A ponderous bark for river tides) 

Yet light as gossamer it glides, 
Downward to Tilmouth cell. 

Nor long was his abiding there, 

For southward did the saint repair ; 

Chester-le-Street, and Hippon, saw 

His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw 
Hailed him with joy and fear ; 



canto ii. TPIE CONVENT. 93 

And, after many wanderings past. 
He chose his lordly seat at last, 
Where his cathedral, huge and vast, 

Looks down upon the Wear : 
There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, 
His reliques are in secret laid ; 

But none may know the place, 
Save of his holiest servants three, 
Deep sworn to solemn secrecy, 

Who share that wond'rous grace. 

i 

XV. 
Who may his miracles declare 
Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, 

(Although with them they led 
Galwegians, wild as ocean's gale, 
And Lodon's knights, all sheathed in mail, 
And the bold men of Teviotdale,) 

Before his standard fled. 



94 MARMION. canto 

'Twas he y to vindicate his reign, 
Edged Alfred's faulchion on the Dane, 
And turned the conqueror back again, 
When, with his Norman bowyer band, 
He came to waste Northumberland. 

XVI. 

But fain St Hilda's nuns would learn, 
If, on a rock, by Lindisfarn, 
Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame 
The sea-born beads that bear his name : . 
Such tales had Whitby's fishers told, 
And said they might his shape behold, 

And hear his anvil sound ; 
A deadened clang, — a huge dim form, 
Seen but, and heard, when gathering stoim 

And night were closing round. 
But this, as tale of idle fame, 
The nuns of Landisfarn disclaim. 






*to ii. THE CONVENT. 95 

XVII. 

While round the fire such legends go 
Far different was the scene of woe, 
Where, in a secret aisle beneath, 
Council was held of life and death. 

It was more dark and lone that vault, 
Than the worst dungeon cell ; 

Old Colwulf built it, for his fault, 
In penitence to dwell, 
When he for cowl and beads, laid down 
The Saxon battle-axe and crown. 
This den, which, chilling every sense 

Of feeling, hearing, sight, 
Was called the Vault of Penitence, 

Excluding air and light, 
Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made 
A place of burial, for such dead 
As, having died in mortal sin, 
Might not be laid the church within. 



MARMION. canto ii. 

? Twas now a place of punishment ; 
Whence if so loud a shriek were sent, 

As reached the upper air, 
The hearers blessed themselves, and said, 
The spirits of the sinful dead 

Bemoaned their torments there. 

XVIIL 

But though, in the monastic pile, 
Did of this penitential aisle 

Some vague tradition go, 
Few only, save the Abbot, knew 
Where the place lay ; and still more few 
Were those, who had from him the clew 

To that dread vault to go. 
Victim and executioner 
Were blind-fold when transported there. 
In low dark rounds the arches hung, 
From the rude rock the side-walls sprung ; 

7 



CANTO II. 



THE CONVENT. 



0-7 



The grave-stones, rudely sculptured o'er, 
Half sunk in earth, by time half wore, 
Were all the pavement of the floor ; 
The mildew drops fell one by one, 
With tinkling plash, upon the stone. 
A cresset,* in an iron chain, 
Which served to light this drear domain, 
With damp and darkness seemed to strive, 
As if it scarce might keep alive ; 
And yet it dimly served to shew 
The awful conclave met below. 

XIX. 

There, met to doom in secrecy, 
Were placed the heads of convents three : 
All servants of Saint Benedict, 
The statutes of whose order strict 
On iron table lay ; 



* Antique chandelier. 
G 



98 MARMION. canto ii. 

In long black dress, on seats of stone, 
Behind were these three judges shewn, 

By the pale cresset's ray : 
The Abbess of Saint Hilda, there, 
Sate for a space with visage bare, 
Until, to hide her bosom's swells 
And tear-drops that for pity fell, 

She closely drew her veil : 
Yon shrouded figure, as I guess, 
By her proud mien and flowing dress, 
Is Tynemouth's haughty Prioress, 

And she with awe looks pale : 
And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight 
Has long been quenched by age's night, 
Upon whose wrinkled brow alone, 
Nor ruth, nor mercy's trace is shown, 

Whose look is hard and stern, — 
Saint Cuthbert's Abbot is his stile ; 
For sanctity called, through the isle, 

The Saint of Lindisfarn. 



mo it. THE CONVEJNT. 99 

XX. 

Before them stood a guilty pair ; 
But, though an equal fate they share, 
Yet one alone deserves our care. 
Her sex a page's dress belied ; 
The cloak and doublet, loosely tied, 
Obscured her charms, but could not hide. 

Her cap down o'er her face she drew ; 
And, on her doublet breast, 

She tried to hide the badge of blue, 
Lord Marm ion's falcon crest. 
But, at the Prioress' command, 
A Monk undid the silken band, 

That tied her tresses fair, 
And raised the bonnet from her head, 
And down her slender form they spread. 

In ringlets rich and rare. 
Constance de Beverley they know, 
Sister professed of Fontevraud, 



W9 MARMION. canto ii. 



Whom the church numbered with the dead, 
For broken vows, and convent fled. 



XXI. 

When thus her face was given to view, 
(Although so pallid was her hue, 
It did a ghastly contrast bear 
To those bright ringlets glistering fair,) 
Her look composed, and steady eye, 
Bespoke a matchless constancy ; 
And there she stood so calm and pale, 
That, but her breathing did not fail, 
And motion slight of eye and head, 
And of her bosom, warranted, 
That neither sense nor pulse she lacks, 
You might have thought a form of wax, 
Wrought to the very life, was there ; 
So still she was, so pale, so fair. 



santoii. THE CONVENT, 101 

XXII. 

Her comrade was a sordid soul, 

Such as does murder for a meed ; 
Who, but of fear, knows no controul, 
Because his conscience, seared and foul, 

Feels not the import of his deed ; 
One, whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires 
Beyond his own more brute desires. 
Such tools the tempter ever needs, 
To do the savagest of deeds ; 
For them no visioned terrors daunt, 
Their nights no fancied spectres haunt ; 
One fear with them, of all most base, 
The fear of death, — alone finds place. 
This wretch was clad in frock and cowl, 
And shamed not loud to moan and howl, 
His body on the floor to dash, 
And crouch, like hound beneath the lash 
While his mute partner, standing near, 
Waited her doom without a tear. 



\W M ARM ION. - oant( 

XXIII. 

Yet well the Inckless wretch might shriek, 
Well might her paleness terror speak ! 
For there were seen, in that dark wall, 
Two niches, narrow, deep, and tail ; — 
Who enters at such griesly door, 
Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more. 
In each a slender meal was laid, 
Of roots, of water, and of bread : 
By each, in Benedictine dress, 
Two haggard monks stood motionless; 
Who, holding high a blazing torch, 
Shewed the grim entrance of the porch: 
Reflecting back the smoky beam, 
The dark-red walls and arches gleam. 
Hewn stones and cement were displayed, 
And building tools in order laid. 

XXIV. 

These executioners were chose, 

As men who were with mankind foes, 



anto ii. THE CONVENT. 103 

And, with despite and envy fired, 
Into the cloister had retired ; 

Or who, in desperate doubt of grace, 
Strove, by deep penance, to efface 

Of some foul crime the stain ; 
For, as the vassals of her will, 
Such men the church selected still, 
As either joyed in doing ill, 

Or thought more grace to gain, 
If, in her cause, they wrestled dow^ 
Feelings their nature strove to own. 
By strange device were they brought there, 
They knew not how, and knew not where. 

XXV. 

And now that blind old Abbot rose, 

To speak the Chapter's doom, 
On those the wall was to inclose, 

Alive, within the tomb ; 



104 MARMION. canto u. 

But stopped, because that woeful maid, 
Gathering her powers, to speak essayed. 
Twice she essayed, and twice in vain ; 
Her accents might no utterance gain; 
Nought but imperfect murmurs slip 
From her convulsed and quivering lip : 
Twixt each attempt all was so still, 
You seemed to hear a distant rill — 

'Twas ocean's swells and falls ; 
For though this vault of sin and fear 
Was to the sounding surge so near, 
A tempest there you scarce could hear, 
So massive were the walls. 

XXVI. 

At length, an effort sent apart 

The blood that curdled to her heart, 

And light came to her eye, 
And colour dawned upon her cheek, 
A hectic and a fluttered streak, 



canto li. THE CONVENT. 105 

Like that left on the Cheviot peak, 

By Autumn's stormy sky ; 
And when her silence broke at length, 
Still as she spoke, she gathered strength, 

And armed herself to bear. 
It was a fearful sight to see 
Such high resolve and constancy, 

In form so soft and fair. 

XXVII. 

" I speak not to implore your grace ; 
Well know I, for one minute's space 

Successless might I sue : 
Nor do I speak your prayers to gain ; 
For if a death of lingering pain, 
To cleanse my sins, be penance vain, 

Vain are your masses too. — ■ 
I listened to a traitor's tale, 
I left the convent and the veil, 



100 MARMION. canto n. 

For three long years I bowed rny pride, 
A horse-boy in his train to ride ; 
And well my folly's meed he gave, 
Who forfeited, to be his slave, 
All here, and ail beyond the grave. — 
He saw young Clara's face more fair, 
He knew her of broad lands the heir, 
Forgot his vows, his faith forswore, 
And Constance was beloved no more. — 
'Tis an old tale, and often told ; 

But, did my fate and wish agree, 
Ne'er had been read, in story old, 
Of maiden true betrayed for gold, 
That loved, or was avenged, like me ! 

XXVIII. 

"* The king approved his favourite's aim ; 
In vain a rival barred his claim, 

Whose faith with Clare's was plight, 






canto ii. THE CONSENT. U>7 

For he attaints that rival's fame 

With treason's charge — and on they came, 

In mortal lists to fight. 
Their oaths are said. 
Their prayers are prayed, 
Their lances in the rest are laid, 

They meet in mortal shock ; 
And hark ! the throng, with thundering cry, 
Shout " Marmion, Marmion, to the sky! 

De Wilton to the block! " 
Say ye, who preach heaven shall decide, 
When in the lists two champions ride, 

Say, was heaven's justice here? 
When, loyal in his love and faith, 
Wilton found overthrow or death, 

Beneath a traitor's spear. 
How false the charge, how true he fell, 
This guilty packet best can tell." — 
Then drew a packet from her breast, 
Paused, gathered voice, and spoke the rest. 






108 MARMION. canto it. 

XXIX. 

" Still was false Marmion's bridal staid 
To Whitby's convent fled the maid, 

The hated match to shun. 
c Ho ! shifts she thus ?' king Henry cried. 
e Sir Marmion she shall be thy bride, 

If she were sworn a nun.' 
One way remained — the king's command 
Sent Marmion to the Scottish land : 
I lingered here, and rescue plann'd 

For Clara and for me : 
This caitiff Monk, for gold did swear, 
He would to Whitby's shrine repair, 
And, by his drugs, my rival fair 

A saint in heaven should be. 
But ill the dastard kept his oath, 
Whose cowardice hath undone us both. 

XXX. 

* And now my tongue the secret tells, 
Not that remorse my bosom swells, 






canto ii. THE CONVENT. 109 

But to assure my soul, that none 
Shall ever wed with Marmion. 
Had fortune my last hope betrayed, 
This packet, to the king conveyed, 
Had given him to the headsman's stroke, 
Although my heart that instant broke. — 
Now, men of death, work forth your will, 
For I can suffer, and be still ; 
And come he slow, or come he fast, 
It is but Death who comes at last. 

XXXI. 

" Yet dread me, from my living tomb, 
Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome ! 
If Marmion's late remorse should wake, 
Full soon such vengeance will he take, 
That you shall wish the fiery Dane 
Had rather been your guest again. 
Behind, a darker hour ascends ! 
The altars quake, the crosier bends, 



UO M ARM ION. canto 

The ire of a despotic king 

Rides forth upon destruction's wing. 

Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep, 

Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep ; 

Some traveller then shall find my bones, 

Whitening amid disjointed stones, 

And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, 

Marvel such relics here should be." — 

XXXII. 

Fixed was her look, and stern her air ; 
Back from her shoulders streamed her hair; 
The locks, that wont her brow to shade, 
Stared up erectly from her head ; 
Her figure seemed to rise more high ; 
Her voice, despair's wild energy 
Had given a tone of prophecy. 
Appalled the astonished conclave sate ; 
With stupid eyes, the men of fate 



canto ii. THE CONVENT. Ill 

Gazed on the light inspired form, 
And listened for the avenging storm ; 
The judges felt the victim's dread ; 
No hand was moved > no word was said, 
Till thus the Abbot's doom was given, 
Raising his sightless balls to heaven : — 
{( Sister, let thy sorrows cease ; 
Sinful brother, part in peace !" — 

From that dire dungeon, place of doom, 
Of execution too, and tomb, 

Paced forth the judges three ; 
Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell 
The butcher-work that there befell, 
When they had glided from the cell 
Of sin and misery. 

XXXIII. 

An hundred winding steps convey 
That conclave to the upper day j 



112 MARMION. canto 11. 

But, ere they breathed the fresher air. 
They heard the shriekings of despair, 

And many a stifled groan : 
With speed their upward way they take, 
(Such speed as age and fear can make,) 
And crossed themselves for terror's sake, 

As hurrying, tottering on : 
Even in the vesper's heavenly tone, 
They seemed to hear a dying groan, 
And bade the passing knell to toll 
For welfare of a parting soul. 
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung, 
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung ; 
To Warkworth cell the echoes rolled, 
His beads the wakeful hermit told ; 
The Bamborough peasant raised his head, 
But slept ere half a prayer he said ; 
So far was heard the mighty knell, 
The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell;, 

10 



«antoii. THE CONVENT. 113 

Spread his broad nostril to the wind, 
Listed before, aside, behind, 
Then couched him down beside the hind ; 
And quaked among tbe mountain fern, 
To hear that sound, so dull and stern. 



END OF CANTO SECOND. 



MARMION. 



Sjnttotoittion to Canto &8n-tr. 



E in ] 



TO 



WILLIAM ERSKINE, Esq. 



Ashesticl, Ettricke Forest. 
Like April morning clouds, that pass, 
With varying shadow, o'er the grass, 
And imitate, on field and furrow, 
Life's chequered scene of joy and sorrow; 
Like streamlet of the mountain north, 
Now in a torrent racing forth, 
Now winding slow its silver train, 
And almost slumbering on the plain ; 
Like breezes of the autumn day, 
Whose voice inconstant dies away, 



118 INTRODUCTION 

And ever swells again as fast, 
When the ear deems its murmur past ; 
Thus various, my romantic theme 
Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. 
Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace 
Of Light and Shade's inconstant race ; 
Pleased, views the rivulet afar, 
Weaving its maze irregular ; 
And pleased, we listen as the breeze 
Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees : 
Then wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, 
Flow on, flow unconfined, my tale. 

Need I to thee, dear Erskine, tell, 
I love the license all too well, 
In sounds now lowly, and now strong, 
To raise the desultory song ? — 
Oft, when mid such capricious chime, 
Some transient fit of lofty rhyme 
To thy kind judgment seemed excuse 
For many an error of the muse ; 



TO CANTO THIRD. 119 

Oft hast thou said, " If still mis-spent, 
Thine hours to poetry are lent, 
Go, and, to tame thy wandering course, 
Quaff from the fountain at the source ; 
Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb 
Immortal laurels ever bloom : 
Instructive of the feebler bard, 
Still from the grave their voice is heard ; 
From them, and from the paths they shew'd, 
Chuse honoured guide and practised road ; 
Nor ramble on through brake and maze, 
With harpers rude of barbarous days. 

u Or deem'st thou not our later time 
Yields topic meet for classic rhyme ? 
Hast thou no elegiac verse 
For Brunswick's venerable hearse ? 
What ! not a line, a tear, a sigh, 
When valour bleeds for liberty ? — 
Oh, hero of that glorious time, 
When, with unrivalled light sublime, — 



120 INTRODUCTION 

Though martial Austria, and though all 
The might of Russia, and the Gaul, 
Though banded Europe stood her foes — 
The star of Brandenburgh arose ! 
Thou could'st not live to see her beam 
For ever quenched in Jena's stream. 
Lamented chief !— it was not given 
To thee to change the doom of heaven, 
And crush that dragon in its birth, 
Predestined scourge of guilty earth. 
Lamented chief ! — not thine the power, 
To save in that presumptuous hour, 
When Prussia hurried to the field, 
And snatched the spear, but left the shield ! 
Valour and skill 'twas thine to try, 
And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to die. 
Ill had it seemed thy silver hair 
The last, the bitterest pang to share, 
For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven,. 
And birthrights to usurpers given ; 
13 






TO CANTO THIRD. 121 

Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel, 
And witness woes thou could'st not heal! 
On thee relenting heaven bestows 
For honoured life an honoured close ; 
And when revolves, in time's, sure change, 
The hour of Germany's revenge, 
When, breathing fury for her sake, 
Some new Arminius shall awake, 
Her champion, ere he strike, shall come 
To whet his sword on Brunswick's tomb. 

** Or of the Red-Cross hero teach, 
Dauntless in dungeon as on breach : 
Alike to him the sea, the shore, 
The brand, the bridle, or the oar; 
Alike to him the war that calls 
It's votaries to the shattered walls, 
Which the grim Turk, besmeared with blood. 
Against the Invincible made good ; 
Or that, whose thundering voice could wake 
The silence of the polar lake, 



122 INTRODUCTION 

When stubborn Russ, and ruetal'd Swede, 
On the warped wave their death-game played ; 
Or that, where vengeance and affright 
Howled round the father of the fight, 
Who snatched, on Alexandria's sand, 
The conqueror's wreath with dying hand. 

" Or, if to touch such chord be thine, 
Restore the ancient tragic line, 
And emulate the notes that rung 
From the wild harp, which silent hung 
By silver Avon's holy shore, 
Till twice an hundred years rolled o'er ; 
When she, the bold Enchantress, came, 
With fearless hand and heart on flame ! 
From the pale willow snatched the treasure, 
And swept it with a kindred measure, 
Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove 
With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, 
Awakening at the inspired strain, 
Deemed their own Shakespeare lived again." — 



TO CANTO THIRD. 



123 



Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, 
With praises not to me belonging, 
In task more meet for mightiest powers, 
Would'st thou engage my thriftless hours. 
But say, my Erskine/hast thou weighed 
That secret power by all obeyed, 
Which warps not less the passive mind, 
Its source concealed or undefined ; 
Whether an impulse, that has birth 
Soon as the infant wakes on earth, 
One with our feelings and our powers, 
And rather part of us than ours ; 
Or whether fitlier termed the sway 
Of habit, formed in early day ? 
Howe'er derived, its force confessed 
Rules with despotic sway the breast, 
And drags us on by viewless chain, 
While taste and reason plead in vain. 
Look east, and ask the Belgian why, 
Beneath Batavia's sultry sky, 



\U INTRODUCTION 

He seeks not eager to inhale 

The freshness of the mountain gale, 

Content to rear his whitened wall 

Beside the dank and dull canal ? 

He'll say, from youth he loved to see 

The white sail gliding by the tree. 

Or see yon weather-beaten hind, 

Whose sluggish herds before him wind, 

Whose tattered plaid and rugged cheek 

His northern clime and kindred speak ; 

Through England's laughing meads he goes. 

And England's wealth around him flows ; 

Ask, if it would content him well, 

At ease in these gay plains to dwell, 

Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen, 

And spires and forests intervene, 

And the neat cottage peeps between ? 

No ! not for these will he exchange 

His dark Lochaber's boundless range, 






TO CANTO THIRD. 

Nor for fair Devon's meads forsake 
Bennevis grey, and Garry's lake. 



125 



Thus, while I ape the measure wild 
Of tales that charmed me yet a child, 
Rude though they be, still with the chime 
Return the thoughts of early time ; 
And feelings, roused in life's first day. 
Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. 
Then rise those crags, that mountain tower, 
Which charmed my fancy's wakening hour. 
Though no broad river swept along, 
To claim, perchance, heroic song ; 
Though sighed no groves in summer gale, 
To prompt of love a softer tale ; 
Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed 
Claimed homage from a shepherd's reed; 
Yet was poetic impulse given, 
By the green hill and clear blue heaven. 



126 INTRODUCTION 

It was a barren scene, and wild, 

Where naked cliffs were rudely piled ; 

But ever and anon between 

Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green ; 

And well the lonely infant knew 

Recesses where the wall-flower grew, 

And honey-suckle loved to crawl 

Up the low crag and ruined wall. 

I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade 

The sun in all his round surveyed ; 

And still I thought that shattered tower 

The mightiest work of human power ; 

And marvelled, as the aged hind 

With some strange tale bewitched my mind, 

Of foray ers, who, with headlong force, 

Down from that strength had spurred their horse, 

Their southern rapine to renew, 

Far in the distant Cheviots blue. 

And, home returning, filled the hall 

With revel, wassell-route, and brawl. — 



TO CANTO THIRD. 127 

Methought that still with trump and clang 

The gate-way's broken arches rang > 

Methought grim features, seamed with scars, 

Glared through the window's rusty bars. 

And ever, by the winter hearth, 

Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, 

Of lovers' sleights, of ladies' charms, 

Of witches spells, of warriors' arms ; 

Of patriot battles, won of old 

By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold ; 

Of later fields of feud and fight, 

When, pouring from their Highland height, 

The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, 

Had swept the scarlet ranks away. 

While stretched at length upon the floor, 

Again I fought each combat o'er, 

Pebbles and shells, in order laid, 

The mimic ranks of war displayed ; 

And onward still the Scottish Lion bore, 

And still the scattered Southron fled before. 



128 INTRODUCTION 

Still, with vain fondness, could I trace, 
Anew, each kind familiar face, 
That brightened at our evening fire ; 
From the thatched mansion's grey-haired Sire, 

Wise without learning, plain and good, 
And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood ; 
Whose eye in age, quick, clear, and keen, 
Shewed what in youth its glance had been ; 
Whose doom discording neighbours sought, 
Content with equity unbought ; 
To him the venerable Priest, 
Our frequent and familiar guest, 
Whose life and manners well could paint 
Alike the student and the saint ; 
Alas ! whose speech too oft I broke 
With gambol rude and timeless joke: 
For I was wayward, bold, and wild, 
A self-whTd imp, a grandame's child ; 
But half a plague, and half a jest, 
Was still endured, beloved, carest. 






TO CANTO THIRD. 129 

From me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask 
The classic poet's well-conned task ? 
Nay, Erskine, nay — on the wild hill 
Let the wild heathbell flourish still ; 
Cherish the tulip, prune the vine, 
But freely lei the woodbine twine, 
And leave untrimmed the eglantine : 
Nay, my friend, nay — since oft thy praise 
Hath given fresh vigour to my lays, 
Since oft thy judgment could refine 
My flattened thought, or cumbrous line, 
Still kind, as is thy wont, attend, 
And in the minstrel spare the friend. 
Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale, 
Flow forth, flow unrestrained, my tale ! 



MARMION 



CANTO THIRD. 



%$z l$oml> ot 3tun 



[ 133 ] 



MARMION 



CANTO THIRD. 



%fy ^O0trf, DC Jtllt, 



I. 

The livelong day Lord Marmion rode : 
The mountain path the Palmer shewed ; 
By glen and streamlet winded still, 
Where stunted birches hid the rill. 
They might not chuse the lowland road, 
For the Merse forayers were abroad, 
Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, 
Had scarcely failed to bar their way. 



134 MARMION. canto hi. 

Oft on the trampling band, from crown 

Of some tall cliff, the deer looked down j 

On wing of jet, from his repose 

In the deep heath, the black-cock rose ; 

Sprung from the gorse the timid roe. 

Nor waited for the bending bow ; 

And when the stony path began, 

By which the naked peak they wan, 

Up flew the snowy ptarmigan. 

The noon had long been passed, before 

They gained the height of Lammermoorj 

Thence winding down the northern way. 

Before them, at the close of day, 

Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay. 

II. 

No summons calls them to the tower, 
To spend the hospitable hour. 
To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone ; 
His cautious dame, in bower alone, 






canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 135 

Dreaded her castle to unclose. 

So late, to unknown friends or foes. 
On through the hamlet as they paced, 
Before a porch, whose front was graced 
With bush and flaggon trimly placed, 

Lord Marmion drew his rein : 
The village inn seemed large, though rude; 
Its cheerful fire and hearty food 
Might well relieve his train. 

Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, 

With jingling spurs the court-yard rung; 

They bind their horses to the stall, 

For forage, food, and firing call, 

And various clamour fills the hall ; 

Weighing the labour with the cost, 

Toils everywhere the bustling host. 

III. 

Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze, 
Through the rude hostel might you gaze ; 



136 MARMION. canto hi. 

Might see, where, in dark nook aloof, 
The rafters of the sooty roof 

Bore wealth of winter cheer; 
Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store, 
And gammons of the tusky boar, 

And savoury haunch of deer. 
The chimney arch projected wide ; 
Above, around it, and beside, 

Were tools for housewives' hand : 
Nor wanted, in that martial day, 
The implements of Scottish fray, 

The buckler, lance, and brand. 
Beneath its shade, the place of state, 
On oaken settle Marmion sate, 
And viewed, around the blazing hearth, 
His followers mix in noisy mirth ; 
Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide, 
From ancient vessels ranged aside, 
Full actively their host supplied. 



«awto hi. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. VJ1 

IV. 

Their's was the glee of martial breast,, 
And laughter their's at little jest ; 
And oft Lord Marmion deigned to aid, 
And mingle in the mirth they made : 
For though, with men of high degree, 
The proudest of the proud was he, 
Yet, trained in camps, he knew the art 
To win the soldier's hardy heart. 
They love a captain to obey, 
Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May; 
With open hand, and brow as free, 
Lover of wine, and minstrelsy ; 
Ever the first to scale a tower, 
As venturous in a lady's bower : 
Such buxom chief shall lead his host 
From India's fires to ZembJa's frost. 

V. 
Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 
Kight opposite the Palmer stood ; 



138 MARMIOW. canto hi. 

His thin dark visage seen but half, 

Half hidden by his hood. 
Still fixed on Marmion was his look. 
Which he, who ill such gaze could brook. 

Strove by a frown to quell ; 
But not for that, though more than once 
Full met their stern encountering glance, 

The Palmer's visage felL 

VI. 

By fits less frequent from the crowd 
Was heard the burst of laughter loud y 
For still, as squire and archer stared 
On that dark face and matted beard, 

Their glee and game declined. 
All gazed at length in silence drear, 
Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear 
Some yeoman, wondering in his fear, 

Thus whispered forth, his mind : — 
" Saint Mary ! saw'st thou e'er such sight I 



canto in. THE HOSTEL Ok INN. 1S1) 

Row pale his cheek, his eye how bright, 
Whene'er the fire-brand's fickle light 

Glances beneath his cowl ! 
Full on our Lord he sets his eye ; 
For his best palfrey would not I 

Endure that sullen scowl." — 

VII. 

But Marmion, as to chase the awe 

Which thus had quelled their hearts, who saw 

The ever- varying fire-light shew 

That figure stern, and face of woe, 

Now called upon a squire : — 
" Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay, 
To speed the lingering night away ? 

We slumber by the fire."— 

VIII. 

" So please you," thus the youth rejoined, 
" Our choicest minstrel's left behind. 



140 MARMION. canto hi. 

Ill may we hope to please your ear, 
Accustomed Constant's strains to hear. 
The harp full deftly can he strike, 
And wake the lover's lute alike ; 
To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush 
Sings livelier from a spring- tide bush : 
No nightingale her love-lorn tune 
More sweetly warbles to the moon. 
Woe to the cause, whatever it be, 
Detains from us his melody, 
Lavished on rocks, and billows stern, 
Or duller monks of Lindisfarn. 
Now must I venture, as I may, 
To sing his favourite roundelay." — 

IX. 

A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, 
The air he chose was wild and sad ; 
Such have I heard, in Scottish land, 
Rise from the busy harvest band, 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 141 

When falls before the mountaineer, 
On lowland plains, the ripened ear. 
Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, 
Now a wild chorus swells the song : 
Oft have I listened, and stood still, 
As it came softened up the hill, 
And deemed it the lament of men 
Who languished for their native glen ; 
And thought how sad would be such sound, 
On Susquehana's swampy ground, 
Kentucky's wood-encumbered brake, 
Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, 
Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, 
Recalled fair Scotland's hills again! 

X. 

Where shall the lover rest, 

Whom the Fates sever 
From his true maiden's breast, 

Parted for ever \ 



142 MARMION. canto m. 

Where, through groves deep and high, 

Sounds the far billow, 
Where early violets die, 

Under the willow. 

CHORUS. 

Mien loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow. 

There, through the summer day, 

Cool streams are laving ; 
There, while the tempests sway, 

Scarce are bows waving ; 
There, thy rest shalt thou take, 

Parted for ever, 
Never again to wake, 

Never, O never, 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loroy &c. Never, O never. 

XL 

Where shall the traitor re6t, 
He, the deceiver, 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 143 

Who could win maiden's breast, 

Ruin, and leave her ? 
In the lost battle, 

Borne down by the flying. 
Where mingles war's rattle, 

With groans of the dying. 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying% 

Her wing shall the eagle flap 

O'er the false hearted ; 
His warm blood the wolf shall lap, 

Ere life be parted. 
Shame and dishonour sit 

By his grave ever ; 
Blessing shall hallow it, — > 

Never, O never. 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never. 



144 MARMION. <;anto hi. 

XII. 

It ceased, the melancholy sound ; 
And silence sunk on all around. 
The air was sad ; but sadder still 

It fell on Marmion's ear, 
And plained as if disgrace and ill, 

And shameful death were near. 
He drew his mantle past his face, 

Between it and the band, 
And rested with his head a space, 

Reclining on his hand. 
His thoughts I scan not ; but I ween, 
That, could their import have been seen^ 
The meanest groom in all the hall, 
That e'er tied courser to a stall, 
Would scarce have wished to be their prey^ 
For Lutterward and Fontenaye. 

XIIL 

High minds, of native pride and force, 

Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse J 
11 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 145 

Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have, 
Thou art the torturer of the brave ! 
Yet fatal strength they boast to steel 
Their minds to bear the wounds they feel ; 
Even while they writhe beneath the smart 
Of civil conflict in the heart. 
For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, 
And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said : — 
" Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, 
Seemed in mine ear a death-peal rung, 
Such as in nunneries they toll 
For some departing sister's soul ? 

Say, what may this portend ?" — 
Then first the Palmer silence broke, 
(The live-long day he had not spoke,) 

« The death of a dear friend." 

XIV. 

Marmion, whose steady heart and eye 
Ne'er changed in worst extremity ; 



146 MARMION. canto hi. 

Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 
Even from his king, a haughty look ; 
Whose accent of command controuled, 
In camps, the boldest of the bold — 
Thought, look, and utterance, failed him now, 
Fallen was his glance, and flushed his brow : 

For either in the tone, 
Or something in the Palmer's look, 
So full upon his conscience strook, 

That answer he found none. 
Thus oft it haps, that when within 
They shrink at sense of secret sin, 

A feather daunts the brave ; 
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, 
And proudest princes vail their eyes 

Before their meanest slave. 

XV. 
Well might he faulter ! — by his aid 
Was Constance Beverley betrayed ; 

10 






canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. I4T 

Not that he augur'd of the doom, 

Which on the living closed the tomb : 

But, tired to hear the desperate maid 

Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid ; 

And wroth, because, in wild despair, 

She practised on the life of Clare ; 

Its fugitive the church he gave, 

Though not a victim, but a slave ; 

And deemed restraint in convent strange 

Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge. 

Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer, 

Held Romish thunders idle fear, 

Secure his pardon he might hold, 

For some slight mulct of penance-gold. 

Thus judging, he gave secret way, 

When the stern priests surprised their prey : 

His train but deemed the favourite page 

Was left behind, to spare his age ; 

Or other if they deemed, none dared 

To mutter what he thought and heard ; 



148 MARMION. canto hi. 

Woe to the vassal, who durst pry 
Into Lord Marmion's privacy ! 

XVT. 

His conscience slept — he deemed her well, 
And safe secured in distant cell ; 
But, wakened by her favourite lay, 
And that strange Palmer's boding say, 
That fell so ominous and drear, 
Full on the object of his fear, 
To aid remorse's venomed throes, 
Dark tales of convent vengeance rose ; 
And Constance, late betrayed and scorned, 
All lovely on his soul returned : 
Lovely as when, at treacherous call, 
She left her convent's peaceful wall, 
Crimsoned with shame, with terror mute, 
Dreading alike escape, pursuit, 
Till love, victorious o'er alarms, 
Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 14S 

XVII. 

u Alas !" he thought, " how changed that mien ! 

How changed these timid looks have been, 

Since years of guilt, and of disguise, 

Have steeled her brow, and armed her eyes ! 

No more of virgin terror speaks 

The blood that mantles in her cheeks ; 

Fierce, and unfeminine, are there, 

Frenzy for joy, for grief despair ; 

And I the cause — for whom were given 

Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven !— - 

Would," thought he, as the picture grows, 

" I on its stalk had left the rose ! 

Oh why should man's success remove 

The very charms that wake his love ! — - 

Her convent's peaceful solitude 

Is now a prison harsh and rude ; 

And, pent within the narrow cell, 

How will her spirit chafe and swell i 

How brook the stern monastic laws ! 

The penance how— and I the cause 1 — 



15© M ARM ION. canto in. 

Vigil and scourge — perchance even worse !" — • 
And twice lie rose to cry " to horse !" 
And twice his sovereign's mandate came, 
Like damp upon a kindling flame : 
And twice he thought, " Gave I not charge 
She should be safe, though not at large ? 
They durst not, for their island, shred 
One golden ringlet from her head."— 

XVEII. 

While thus in Marmion's bosom strove 

Iiepentance and reviving love, 

Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway 

I've seen Loch Vennachar obey, 

Their Host the Palmer's speech had heard, 

And, talkative, took up the word : — 

" Aye, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray 
From Scotland's simple land away, 

To visit realms afar, 
Full often learn the art to know, 
Of future weal, or future woe, 

By word, or sign, or star 



CANTO III. 



THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 



151 



Yet might a knight his fortune hear 
If, knight-like, he despises fear, 
Not far from hence ; — if fathers old 
Aright our hamlet legend told." — 
These broken words the menials move, 
(For marvels still the vulgar love ;) 
And, Marmion giving license cold, 
His tale the Host thus gladly told. 



XIX. 

" A clerk could tell what years have flown 
Since Alexander filled our throne, 
(Third monarch of that warlike name,) 
And eke the time when here he came 
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord : 
A braver never drew a sword ; 
A wiser never, at the hour 
Of midnight, spoke the word of power : 
The same, whom ancient records call 
The founder of the Goblin-Hall. 



152 MARMION. canto hi. 

I would,, Sir Knight, your longer stay 
Gave you that cavern to survey. 
Of lofty roof, and ample size, 
Beneath the castle deep it lies : 
To hew the living rock profound, 
The floor to pave, the arch to round, 
There never toiled a mortal arm, 
It all was wrought by word and charm ; 
And I have heard my grandsire say, 
That the wild clamour and affray 
Of those dread artizans of hell, 
Who laboured under Hugo's spell, 
Sounded as loud as ocean's war, 
Among the caverns of Dunbar. 

XX. 

u The king Lord Gifford's castle sought, 
Deep-labouring with uncertain thought: 
Even then he mustered all his host, 
To meet upon the western coast ; 



♦vANto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 153 

For Norse and Danish galleys plied 
Their oars within the firth of Clyde. 
There floated Haco's banner trim, 
Above Norweyan warriors grim, 
Savage of heart, and large of limb ; 
Threatening both continent and isle, 
Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle. 
Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground, 
Heard Alexander's bugle sound, 
And tarried not his garb to change, 
But, in his wizard habit strange, 
Came forth,— a quaint and fearful sight ! 
His mantle lined with fox-skins white; 
His high and wrinkled forehead bore 
A pointed cap, such as of yore 
Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi wore ; 
His shoes were marked with cross and spell; 
Upon his breast a pentacle ; 
His zone, of virgin parchment thin, 
Or, as some tell, of dead-man's skin, 



154 MARMION. canto hi. 

Bore many a planetary sign, 
Combust, and retrograde, and trine ; 
And in his hand he held prepared, 
A naked sword without a guard. 

XXL 

(< Dire dealings with the fiendish race 
Had marked strange lines upon his face ; 
Vigil and fast had worn him grim, 
His eyesight dazzled seemed, and dim, 
As one unused to upper day ; 
Even his own menials with dismay 
Beheld, Sir Knight, the griesly sire, 
In this unwonted wild attire ; — 
Unwonted, for traditions run, 
He seldom thus beheld the sun. 
<( I know," he said, — his voice was hoarse., 
And broken seemed its hollow force, — 
<e I know the cause, although untold, 
Why the king seeks his vassal's hold : 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 155 

Vainly from me my liege would know 
His kingdom's future weal or woe ; 
But yet, if strong his arm and heart, 
His courage may do more than art. 

XXII. 
<€ Of middle air the demons proud, 
Who ride upon the racking cloud, 
Can read, in fixed or wandering star, 
The issue of events afar ; 
But still their sullen aid withhold, 
Save when by mightier force controuled. 
Such late I summoned to my hall ; 
And though so potent was the call, 
That scarce the deepest nook of hell 
I deemed a refuge from the spell, 
Yet, obstinate in silence still, 
The haughty demon mocks my skill. 
But thou,— who little knowest thy might 
As born upon that blessed night, 



156 MARMION. canto hi. 

When yawning graves, and dying groan, 

Proclaimed hell's empire overthrown,— 

With untaught valour shalt compel 

Response denied to magic spell." — 

<{ Gramercy," quoth our monarch free, 

" Place him but front to front with me, 

And, by this good and honoured brand, 

The gift of Cceur-de-Lioii's hand, 

Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide, 

The demon shall a buffet bide."—- 

His bearing bold the wizard viewed, 

And thus, well pleased, his speech renewed. — 

(< There spoke the blood of Malcolm ! — -mark : 

Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark, 

The rampart seek, whose circling crown 

Crests the ascent of yonder down : 

A southern entrance shalt thou find ; 

There halt, and there thy bugle wind, 

And trust thine elfin foe to see, 

In guise of thy worst enemy : 
3 






canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 157 

Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed — 
Upon him ! and Saint George to speed ! 
If he go down, thou soon shalt know 
Whate'er these airy sprites can shew ;~- 
If thy heart fail thee in the strife, 
I am no warrant for thy life." — 

XXIII. 

" Soon as the midnight bell did ring, 
Alone, and armed, rode forth the king- 
To that old camp's deserted round :— 
Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound, 
Left hand the town, — the Pictish race 
The trench, long since, in blood did trace ; 
The moor around is brown and bare, 
The space within is green and fair: 
The spot our village children know, 
For there the earliest wild flowers grow ; 
But woe betide the wandering wight, 
That treads its circle in the nisrht ! 



15S MAUMION. cakto hi. 

The breadth across, a bowshot clear, 
Gives ample space for full career ; 
Opposed to the four points of heaven, 
By four deep gaps are entrance given. 
The southernmost our monarch past, 
Halted, and blew a gallant blast; 
And on the north, within the ring, 
Appeared the form of England's king ; 
Who then, a thousand leagues afar, 
In Palestine waged holy war : 
Yet arms like England's did he wield, 
Alike the leopards in the shield, 
Alike his Syrian courser's frame, 
The rider's length of limb the same : 
Long afterwards did Scotland know, 
Fell Edward * was her deadliest foe. 

XXIV. 

" The vision made our monarch start, 
But soon he mann'd his noble heart, 

* Edward L, surnamed Lougshanks. 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 159 

And in the first career they ran, 

The Elfin Knight fell, horse and man ; 

Yet did a splinter of his lance 

Through Alexander's visor glance, 

And razed the skin — a puny wound. 

The king, light leaping to the ground, 

With naked blade his phantom foe 

Compelled the future war to show. 
Of Largs he saw the glorious plain, 
Where still gigantic bones remain, 

Memorial of the Danish war; 
Himself he saw, amid the field, 
On high his brandished war-axe wield, 
And strike proud Haco from his car, 
While, all around the shadowy kings, 
Denmark's grim ravens cowered their wings. 

'Tis said, that, in that awful night, 

Remoter visions met his sight, 

Fore-shewing future conquests far, 

When our sons' sons wage northern war; 



160 MARMION. c 

A royal city, tower and spire, 
Reddened the midnight sky with fire; 
And shouting crews her navy bore, 
Triumphant, to the victor shore. 
Such signs may learned clerks explain, 
They pass the wit of simple swain. 

XXV. 

" The joyful king turned home again, 
Headed his host, and quelled the Dane ; 
But yearly, when returned the night 
Of his strange combat with the sprite, 

His w r ound must bleed and smart ; 
Lord GifTord then would gibing say, 
" Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay 

The penance of your start." 
Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave, 
King Alexander fills his grave, 

Our Lady give him rest ! 



ganto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 161 

Yet still the nightly spear and shield 
The elfin warrior doth wield, 

Upon the brown hill's breast ; 
And many a knight hath proved his chance, 
In the charmed ring to break a lance, 

But all have foully sped ; 
Save two, as legends tell, and they 
Were Wallace wight, and Gilbert Hay.— 

Gentles, my tale is said." — 

XXVI. 

The quaighs * were deep, the liquors strong, 
And on the tale the yeoman throng 
Had made a comment sage and long, 

But Marmion gave a sign y 
And, with their lord, the squires retire ; 
The rest, around the hostel fire, 
Their drowsy limbs recline ; 

* A wooden cup ? composed of staves hooped together. 



& MARMION. canto hi. 

For pillow, underneath each head, 
The quiver and the targe were laid : 
Deep slumbering on the hostel floor, 
Oppressed with toil and ale, they snore : 
The dying flame, ip fitful change, 
Threw on the groupe its shadows strange. 

XXVII. 

Apart, and nestling in the hay 
Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay ; 
Scarce, by the pale moonlight, was seen 
The foldings of his mantle green : 
Lightly he dreamt, as youth will dream, 
Of sport by thicket, or by stream, 
Of hawk or hound, of ring or glove, 
Or, lighter yet, of lady's love. 
A cautious tread his slumber broke, 
And, close beside him, when he woke, 
In moonbeam half, and half in gloom, 
Stood a tall form, with nodding plume ; 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. l&i 

But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, 
His master Marmion's voice he knew. 

XXVIIL 

— " Fitz-Eustace ! rise, — I cannot rest ; 
Yon churl's wild legend haunts my breast, 
And graver thoughts have chafed my mood; 
The air must cool my feverish blood ; 
And fain would I ride forth, to see 
The scene of elfin chivalry. 
Arise, and saddle me my steed ; 
And, gentle Eustace, take good heed 
Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves ; 
I would not, that the prating knaves 
Had cause for saying, o'er their ale, 
That I could credit such a tale."— 
Then softly down the steps they slid, 
Eustace the stable door undid, 
And, darkling, Marmion's steed arrayed, 
While, whispering, thus the Baron said :— 



164 MARMIOtf. canto in, 

XXIX. 

" Did'st never, good my youth, hear tell, 

That on the hour when I was born, 
St George, who graced my sire's ehapelle, 
Down from his steed of marble fell, 

A weary wight forlorn ? 
The flattering chaplains all agree, 
The champion left his steed to me. 
I would, the omen's truth to show, 
That I could meet this Elfin Foe ! 
Blithe would I battle, for the right 
To ask one question at the sprite : — 
Vain thought ! for elves, if elves there be, 
An empty race, by fount or sea, 
To dashing waters dance and sing, 
Or round the green oak wheel their ring."— 
Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, 
And from the hostel slowly rode. 



canto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 165 

XXX. 

Fitz- Eustace followed him abroad, 
And marked him pace the village road, 

And listened to his horse's tramp, 
Till, by the lessening sound, 

He judged that of the Piclish camp 

Lord Marmion sought the round. 
Wonder it seemed, in the squire's eyes, 
That one, so wary held, and wise, — 
Of whom 'twas said, he scarce received 
For gospel, what the church believed, — 

Should, stirred by idle tale, 
Ride forth in silence of the night, 
As hoping half to meet a sprite, 

Arrayed in plate and mail. 
For little did Fitz-Eustace know, 
That passions, in contending flow, 

Unfix the strongest mind ; 
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee, 
We welcome fond credulity, 

Guide confident, though blind. 



166 MARMION. canto hi. 

XXXI. 

Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared, 
But, patient, waited till he heard, 
At distance, pricked to utmost speed, 
The foot-tramp of a flying steed, 

Come town-ward rushing on : 
First, dead, as if on turf it trode, 
Tl^en, clattering on the village road, — 
In other pace than forth he yode * 
Returned Lord Marmion. 
Down hastily he sprung from selle, 
And, in his haste, well nigh he fell ; 
To the squire's hand the rein he threw, 
And spoke no word as he withdrew : 
But yet the moonlight did betray, 
The falcon crest was soiled with clay ; 
And plainly might Fitz-Eustace see, 
By stains upon the charger's knee, 
And his left side, that on the moor 
He had not kept his footing sure. 
* Used by old poets for went. 






«anto in. THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 167 

Long musing on these wond'rous signs, 
At length to rest the squire reclines,, 
Broken and short ; for still, between, 
Would dreams of terror intervene : 
Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark 
The first notes of the morning lark. 



END OF CANTO THIRD. 



MARMION 



Bintraoutrion to Canto ifourtfr 



£ iff 3 



TO 



JAMES SKENE, Esq. 



Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest, 
An ancient minstrel sagely said, 
" Where is the life which late we led ?" — ■ 
That motley clown, in Arden wood, 
Whom humorous Jaques with envy viewed, 
Not even that clown could amplify, 
On tins trite text, so long as I. 
Eleven years we now may tell, 
Since we have known each other well. 
Since, riding side by side, our hand 
First drew the voluntary brand ; 



172 INTRODUCTION 

And sure, through many a varied scene., 

Unkindness never came between. 

Away these winged years have flown, 

To join the mass of ages gone; 

And though deep marked, like all below, 

With chequered shades of joy and woe ; 

Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged, 

Marked cities lost and empires changed, 

While here, at home, my narrower ken 

Somewhat of manners saw, and men; 

Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, 

Fevered the progress of these years, 

Yet now r , days, weeks, and months, but seem 

The recollection of a dream ; 

So still we glide down to the sea 

Of fathomless eternity. 

Even now it scarcely seems a day, 
Since first I tuned this idle lay; 
A task so often thrown aside, 
When leisure graver cares denied^ 



TO CANTO FOURTH. 



173 



That now, November's dreary gale, 

Whose voice inspired my opening tale, 

That same November gale once more 

Whirls the dry leaves on Yarrow's shore j 

Their vex'd boughs streaming to the sky, 

Once more our naked birches sigh ; 

And Blackhouse heights, and Ettricke Pen, 

Have don'd their wintry shrouds again ; 

And mountain dark, and flooded mead, 

Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed. 

Earlier than wont along the sky, 

Mixed with the rack, the snow-mists fly : 

The shepherd, who, in summer sun, 

Has something of our envy won, 

As thou with pencil, I with pen, 

The features traced of hill and glen ; 

He who, outstretched, the livelong day, 

At ease among the heath-flowers lay ; 

Viewed the light clouds with vacant look, 

Or slumbered o'er his tattered book, 

l 



174 INTRODUCTION 

Or idly busied him to guide 
His angle o'er the lessened tide ;— 
At midnight now, the snowy plain 
Finds sterner labour for the swain. 

When red hath set the beamless sun, 
Through heavy vapours dank and dun ; 
When the tired ploughman, dry and warm, 
Hears, half asleep, the rising storm 
Hurling the hail, and sleeted rain, 
Against the casement's tinkling pane ; 
The sounds that drive wild deer, and fox, 
To shelter in the brake and rocks, 
Are warnings which the shepherd ask 
To dismal, and to dangerous task. 
Oft he looks forth,, and hopes, in vain, 
The blast may sink in mellowing rain ; 
Till, dark above, and white below, 
Decided drives the flaky snow, 
And forth the hardy swain must go. 



TO CANTO FOURTH. 



175 



Long, with dejected look and whine, 

To leave the hearth his dogs repine ; 

Whistling and cheering them to aid, 

Around his back he wreathes the plaid : 

His flock he gathers, and he guides 

To open downs, and mountain sides, 

Where fiercest though the tempest blow, 

Least deeply lies the drift below. 

The blast, that whistles o'er the fells, 

Stiffens his locks to icicles ; 

Oft he looks back, while streaming far, 

His cottage window seems a star, 

Loses its feeble gleam, and then 

Turns patient to the blast again, 

And, facing to the tempest's sweep, 

Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep : 

If fails his heart, if his limbs fail, 

Benumbing death is in the gale ; 

His paths, his landmarks, all unknown, 

Close to the hut, no more his own, 



176 INTRODUCTION 

Close to the aid he sought in vain, 
The morn may find the stiffened swain 
His widow sees, at dawning pale, 
His orphans raise their feeble wail ; 
And, close beside him, in the snow, 
Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe, 
Couches upon his master's breast, 
And licks his cheek, to break his rest. 

Who envies now the shepherd's lot, 
His healthy fare, his rural cot, 
His summer couch by greenwood tree, 
His rustic kirn's * loud revelry, 
His native hill-notes, tuned on high, 
To Marion of the blithesome eye ; 
His crook, his scrip, his oaten reed,. 
And all Arcadia's golden creed ? 

Changes not so with us, my Skene, 
Of human life the varying scene ? 

* The Scottish harvest-home. 



TO CANTO FOURTH. 1T7 

Our youthful summer oft we see 
Dance by on wings of game and glee, 
While the dark storm reserves its rage, 
Against the winter of our age : 
As he, the ancient chief of Troy, 
His manhood spent in peace and joy; 
But Grecian fires, and loud alarms, 
Called ancient Priam forth to arms. 
Then happy those,— since each must drain 
His share of pleasure, share of pain, — 
Then happy those, beloved of heaven, 
To whom the mingled cup is given ; 
Whose lenient sorrows find relief, 
Whose joys are chastened by their grief. 
And such a lot, my Skene, was thine, 
When thou of late wert doomed to twine,— 
Just when thy bridal hour was by,— 
The cypress with the myrtle tie ; 
Just on thy bride her Sire had smiled, 
And blessed the union of his child, 

M 



178 INTRODUCTION 

When love must change its joyous cheer, 
And wipe affection's filial tear. 
Nor did the actions, next his end, 
Speak more the father than the friend : 
Scarce had lamented Forbes paid 
The tribute to his Minstrel's shade ; 
The tale of friendship scarce was told, 
Ere the narrator's heart was cold. 
Far may we search before we find 
A heart so manly and so kind. 
But not around his honoured urn, 
Shall friends alone and kindred mourn ; 
The thousand eyes his care had dried. 
Pour at his name a bitter tide ; 
And frequent falls the grateful dew, 
For benefits the world ne'er knew. 
If mortal charity dare claim 
The Almighty's attributed name, 
Inscribe above his mouldering clay, 
" The widow's shield, the orphan's stay." 



TO CANTO FOURTH. 179 

Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem 
My verse intrudes on this sad theme ; 
For sacred was the pen that wrote, 
<e Thy father's friend forget thou not :" 
And grateful title may I plead, 
For many a kindly word and deed, 
To bring my tribute to his grave : — - 
Tis little— but 'tis all I have. 

To thee, perchance this rambling strain 
Recals our summer walks again; 
When, doing nought, — and, to speak true, 
Not anxious to find aught to do, — 
The wild unbounded hills we ranged., 
While oft our talk its topic changed, 
And desultory, as our way, 
Ranged unconfined from grave to gay. 
Even when it flagged, as oft will chance, 
No effort made to break its trance, 
We could right pleasantly pursue 
Our sports in social silence too ; 



180 INTRODUCTION 

Thou gravely labouring to pourtray 

The blighted oak's fantastic spray ; 

I spelling o'er, with much delight, 

The legend of that antique knight, 

Tirante by name, ycleped the White* 

At cither's feet a trusty squire, 

Pan dour and Camp, with eyes of fire, 

Jealous, each others motions viewed, 

And scarce suppressed their ancient feud. 

The laverock whistled from the cloud ; 

The stream was lively, but not loud ; 

From the white thorn the May-flower shed 

Its dewy fragrance round our head : 

Not Ariel lived more merrily 

Under the blossomed bough, than we. 

And blithesome nights, too, have been ours, 
When Winter stript the summer's bowers ; 
Careless we heard, what now I hear, 
The wild blast sighing deep and drear, 



TO CANTO FOURTH. lgl 

When fires were bright, and lamps beamed gay, 

And ladies tuned the lovely lay ; 

And he was held a laggard soul, 

Who shunned to quaff the sparkling bowl. 

Then he, whose absence we deplore, 

Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore, 

The longer missed, bewailed the more ; 

And thou, and I, and dear-loved R , 

And one whose name I may not say, — 

For not Mimosa's tender tree 

Shrinks sooner from the touch than he, — 

In merry chorus well combined, 

With laughter drowned the whistling wind. 

Mirth was within ; and Care, without, 

Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout. 

Not but amid the buxom scene 

Some grave discourse might intervene — 

Of the good horse that bore him best, 

His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest : 



182 INTRODUCTION, &c. 

For, like mad Tom's, # our chiefest care, 

Was horse to ride, and weapon wear. 

Such nights we've had ; and, though the game 

Of manhood be more sober tame, 

And though the field-day, or the drill, 

Seem less important now — yet still 

Such may we hope to share again. 

The sprightly thought inspires my strain ; 

And mark, how like a horseman true, 

Lord Marmion's march I thus renew. 

* See King Lear. 



MARMION 



CANTO FOURTH. 



'CBeCamp* 



C 'as 3 



MARMION. 

CANTO FOURTH. 

®ge Campf 
h 

Eustace, I said, did blithely mark 
The first notes of the merry lark. 
The lark sung shrill, the cock he crew, 
And loudly Marmion's bugles blew, 
And, with their light and lively call, 
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall. 

Whistling they came, and free of heart ; 
But soon their mood was changed : 

Complaint was heard on every part, 
Of something disarranged. 



186 MARMION. canto iv. 

Some clamoured loud for armour lost ; 

Some brawled and wrangled with the host ; 

" By Beeket's bones," cried one, " I fear, 

That some false Scot has stolen my spear !" — 

Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire, 

Found his steed wet with sweat and mire ; 

Although the rated horse-boy sware, 

Last night he dressed him sleek and fair. 

While chafed the impatient squire like thunder, 

Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder, — 

" Help, gentle Blount ! help, comrades all ! 

Bevis lies dying in his stall : 

To Marmion who the plight dare tell, 

Of the good steed he loves so well ?" — • 

Gaping for fear and ruth, they saw 

The charger panting on his straw ; 

Till one, who would seem wisest, cried, — 

<( What else but evil could betide, 

With that cursed Palmer for our guide i 



CANTO IV. 



THE CAMP. 



18? 



Better we had through mire and bush 
Been lanthorn-led by Friar Rush." # 

II. 

Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guessed > 

Nor wholly understood, 
His comrades' clamorous plaints suppressed ; 

He knew Lord Marmion's mood. 
Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, 
And found deep plunged in gloomy thought, 

And did his tale display 
Simply, as if he knew of nought 

To cause such disarray. 
Lord Marmion gave attention cold, 
Nor marvelled at the wonders told, — 
Passed them as accidents of course, 
And bade his clarions sound to horse. 



Alias Will o' the Wisp.— See Note. 



188 MARMION. canto iv. 

III. 

Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost 
Had reckoned with their Scottish host ; 
And, as the charge he cast and paid, 
u 111 thou deserv'st thy hire," he said ; 

i{ Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight ? 
Fairies have ridden him all the night, 

And left him in a foam ! 
I trust, that soon a conjuring band, 
With English cross, and blazing brand, 
Shall drive the devils from this land, 

To their infernal home : 
For in this haunted den, I trow, 
All night they trampled to and fro." — 
The laughing host looked on the hire, — 
tf Gramercy, gentle southern squire, 
And if thou com'st among the rest, 
With Scottish broad sword to be blest, 
Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow, 
And short the pang to undergo." — 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 18L* 

Here stayed their talk, — for Marmion 
Gave now the signal to set on. 
The Palmer shewing forth the way, 
They journeyed all the morning day. 

IV. 

The green-sward way was smooth and good, 

Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood ; 

A forest glade, which, varying still, 

Here gave a view of dale and hill; 

There narrower closed, till over head 

A vaulted screen the branches made. 

" A pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said ; 

** Such as where errant-knights might see 

Adventures of high chivalry ; 

Might meet some damsel flying fast, 

With hair unbound, and looks aghast ; 

And smooth and level course were here, 

In her defence to break a spear. 

Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells ; 

And oft, in such, the story tells, 



190 MARMION. <:ANio 

The damsel kind, from danger freed, 
Did grateful pay her champion's meed." — 

He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mind ; 

Perchance to shew his lore designed ; 
For Eustace much had pored 

Upon a huge romantic tome, 

In the hall-window of his home, 

Imprinted at the antique dome 
Of Caxton, or De Worde. 

Therefore he spoke, — but spoke in vain, 

For Marmion answered nought again. 

V. 

Now sudden, distant trumpets shrill, 
In notes prolonged by wood and hill. 

Were heard to echo far ; 
Each ready archer grasped his bow, 
But by the flourish soon they know, 

They breathed no point of war. 
Yet cautious, as in foeman's land, 
Lord Marmion's order speeds the band, 



canto iv„ THE CAMP. i9i 

Some opener ground to gain ; 
And scarce a furlong had they rode, 
When thinner trees, receding, shewed 

A little woodland plain. 
Just in that advantageous glade, 
The halting troop a line had made, 
As forth from the opposing shade 

Issued a gallant train. 

VI. 

First came the trumpets, at whose clang 
So late the forest echoes rang ; 
On prancing steeds they forward pressed, 
With scarlet mantle, azure vest; 
Each at his trump a banner wore, 
Which Scotland's royal scutcheon bore : 
Heralds and pursuivants, by name 
Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Roth say, came, 
In painted tabards, proudly showing 
Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing, 



192 MARMION. canto 

Attendant on a King-at-anns, 
Whose hand the armorial truncheon held, 
That feudal strife had often quelled, 

When wildest its alarms. 

VII. 

He was a man of middle age ; 
In aspect manly, grave, and sage, 

As on king's errand come ; 
But in the glances of his eye, 
A penetrating, keen, and sly 

Expression found its home ; 
The flash of that satiric rage, 
Which, bursting on the early stage, 
Branded the vices of the age, 

And broke the keys of Rome. 

On milk-white palfrey forth he paced ; 

His cap of maintenance was graced 

With the proud heron-plume. 
11 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 193 

From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast, 

Silk housings swept the ground, 
With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, 

Embroidered round and round. 
The double tressure might you see, 

First by Achaius borne, 
The thistle, and the fleur-de-lis, 

And gallant unicorn. 
So bright the king's armorial coat, 
That scarce the dazzled eye could note, 
In living colours blazoned brave, 
The Lion, which his title gave. 
A train, which well beseemed his state, 
But all unarmed, around him wait. 

Still is thy name in high account, 
And still thy verse has charms, 

Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 
Lord Lion King-at-arms ! 



194 MARMION. canto iv. 

Down from his horse did Marmion spring, 
Soon as he saw the Lion-King 
For well the stately Baron knew., 
To him such courtesy was due, 

Whom royal James himself had crowned, 

And on his temples placed the rouud 
Of Scotland's ancient diadem ; 

And wet his brow with hallowed wine, 

And on his finger given to shine 
The emblematic gem. 
Their mutual greetings duly made, 
The Lion thus his message said :* — 
" Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore, 
Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more, 
And strictly hath forbid resort 
From England to his royal court 
Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's nanie, 
And honours much his warlike fame, 
My liege hath deemed it shame, and lack 
Of courtesy, to turn him back; 

10 






canto iv. THE CAMP. 195 

And, by his order, I, your guide, 
Must lodging fit and fair provide, 
Till finds King James meet time to see 
The flower of English chivalry." — 

IX. 

Though inly chafed at this delay, 
Lord Marmion bears it as he may. 
The Palmer, his mysterious guide, 
Beholding thus his place supplied, 

Sought to take leave in vain : 
Strict was the Lion-King's command, 
That none, who rode in Marmion's band, 

Should sever from the train : 
" England has here enow of spies 
In Lady Heron's witching eyes ;" 
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said, 
But fair pretext to Marmion made. 
The right-hand path they now decline, 
And trace against the stream the Tyne. 



196 MARMION. canto iv. 

X. 

At length up that wild dale they wind, 

Where Crichtoun-Castle crowns the bank ; 

For there the Lion's care assigned 
A lodging meet for Marmion's rank. 
That Castle rises on the steep 

Of the green vale of Tyne; 
And far beneath, where slow they creep 
From pool to eddy, dark and deep, 
Where alders moist, and willows weep, 

You hear her streams repine. 
The towers in different ages rose ; 
Their various architecture shows 

The builders' various hands; 
A mighty mass, that could oppose, 
When deadliest hatred fired its foes, 

The vengeful Douglas bands. 



XL 

Crichtoun ! though now thy miry court 
But pens the lazy steer and sheep, 
Thy turrets rude,, and tottered Keep, 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 197 

Have been the minstrel's loved resort. 
Oft have I traced within thy fort, 

Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, 

Scutcheons of honour, or pretence, 
Quartered in old armorial sort, 

Remains of rude magnificence: 
Nor wholly yet hath time defaced 

Thy lordly gallery fair ; 
Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, 
Whose twisted knots, with roses laced, 

Adorn thy ruined stair. 
Still rises unimpaired, below, 
The court-yard's graceful portico ; 
Above its cornice, row and row 
Of fair hewn facets richly show 

Their pointed diamond form, 
Though there but houseless cattle go, 

To shield them from the storm. 
And, shuddering, still may we explore, 

Where oft whilome were captives pent, 



198 MARMICLV. canto iv. 

The darkness of thy Massy More ; # 

Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, 
May trace, in undulating line, 
The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. 

XII. 

Another aspect Crichtoun shewed, 

As through its portal Marmion rode ; 

But yet 'twas melancholy state 

Received him at the outer gate ; 

For none were in the castle then, 

But women, boys, or aged men. 

With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame, 

To welcome noble Marmion, came ; 

Her son, a stripling twelve years old, 

Proffered the Baron's rein to hold ; 

For each man, that could draw a sword, 

Had marched that morning with their lord, 

* The pit, or prison-vault.— See Note. 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 199 

Earl Adam Hepburn, — he who died 

On Flodden, by his sovereign's side. 

Long may his Lady look in vain ! 

She ne'er shall see his gallant train 

Come sweeping back through^Crichtoun-Dean. 

'Twas a brave race, before the name 

Of hated Bothwell stained their fame. 

XIII. 

And here two days did Marmion rest, 
With every rite that honour claims, 

Attended as the king's own guest, — 
Such the command of royal James ; 
Who marshalled then his land's array, 
Upon the Borough-moor that lay. 
Perchance he would not foeman's eye 
Upon his gathering host should pry, 
Till full prepared was every band 
To march against the English land. 
Here while they dwelt, did Lindesay's wit 
Oft cheer the Baron's moodier fit ; 



200 MARMION. 



CANTO IT. 



And, in his turn, he knew to prize 
Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wise, — 
Trained in the lore of Rome, and Greece, 
And policies of war and peace. 

XIV. 

It chanced, as fell the second night, 

That on the battlements they walked, 
And, by the slowly fading light, 

Of varying topics talked ; 
And, unaware, the Herald-bard 
Said, Marmion might his toil have spared, 

In travelling so far ; 
For that a messenger from heaven 
In vain to James had counsel given 

Against the English war : 
And, closer questioned, thus he told 
A tale, which chronicles of old 
In Scottish story have enrolled : — 



CANTO IV. 



THE CAMP. 



201 



XV. 

g>fc 2Dairifc ILmtttfati'* ^afe 

tc Of all the palaces so fair, 
Built for the royal dwelling, 

In Scotland, far beyond compare 
Linlithgow is excelling; 
And in its park, in jovial June, 
How sweet the merry linnet's tune, 

How blithe the blackbird's lay ! 
The wild buck bells # from ferny brake, 
The coot dives merry on the lake, 
The saddest heart might pleasure take 

To see all nature gay. 
But June is to our Sovereign dear 
The heaviest month in all the year : 
Too well his cause of grief you know, — 
June saw his father's overthrow. 
Woe to the traitors, who could bring 



* An ancient word for the cry of deer. — See Note, 



202 MARMION. cant< 

The princely boy against his King ! 
Still in his conscience burns the sting. 
In offices as strict as Lent, 
King James's June is ever spent, 

XVI. 

" When last this ruthful month was come, 
And in Linlithgow's holy dome 

The King, as wont, was praying ; 
While, for his royal father's soul, 
The chaunters sung, the bells did toll, 

The Bishop mass was saying — 
For now the year brought round again 
The day the luckless king was slain — 
In Katharine's aisle the Monarch knelt, 
With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt, 
And eyes with sorrow streaming ; 
Around him, in their stalls of state, 
The Thistle's Knight-Companions sate, 
Their banners o'er them beaming. 



canto iv. THE CAMP. -203 

I too was there,, and, sooth to tell, 
Bedeafened with the jangling knell, 
Was watching where the sunbeams fell, 

Through the stained casement gleaming ; 
But, while I marked what next befel, 
It seemed as I were dreaming. 

Stepped from the crowd a ghostly wight, 

In azure gown, with cincture white; 

His forehead bald, his head was bare, 

Down hung at length his yellow hair. — 

Now mock me not, when, good my Lord, 

I pledge to you my knightly word, 

That, when I saw his placid grace, 

His simple majesty of face, 

His solemn bearing, and his pace 
So stately gliding on, — 

Seemed to me ne'er did limner paint 

So just an ima^e of the Saint, 

Who propped the Virgin in her faint,-— 
The loved Apostle John. 



2f>4 MARMION. canto iv. 

XVII. 
" He stepped before the Monarch's chair, 
And stood with rustic plainness there, 

And little reverence made : 
Nor head, nor body, bowed nor bent, 
But on the desk his arm he leant, 

And words like these he said, 
In a low voice, — but never tone 
So thrilled through vein, and nerve, and bone :— 
( My mother sent me from afar, 
Sir King, to warn thee not to war, — 

Woe waits on thine array ;' 
If war thou wilt, of woman fair, 
Her witching wiles and wanton snare, 
James Stuart, doubly warned, beware : 

God keep thee as he may !' — 
The wondering Monarch seemed to seek 

For answer, and found none ; 
And when he raised his head to speak, 
The monitor was gone. 



canto iv. THE CAMP. £'05 

The Marshal and myself had cast 
To stop him as he outward past ; 
But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast, 

He vanished from, our eyes, 
Like sunbeam on the billow cast, 

That glances but, and dies." — 

XVI [I. 

While Lindesay told this marvel strange, 

The twilight was so pale, 
He marked not Marmion's colour change, 

While listening to the tale : 
But, after a suspended pause, 
The Baron spoke : — " Of Nature's laws 

So strong I held the force, 
That never super-human cause 

Could e'er controul their course ; 
And, three days since, had judged your aim 
Was but to make your guest your game. 
But I have seen, since past the Tweed, 
What much has changed my sceptic creed, 



206 MARMION. canto iv. 

And made me credit aught." — He staid, 
And seemed to wish his words unsaid : 
But, by that strong emotion pressed, 
Which prompts us to unload our breast, 

Even when discovery's pain, 
To Lindesay did at length unfold 
The tale his village host had told, 
At Gifford, to his train. 
Nought of the Palmer says he there, 
And nought of Constance, or of Clare : 
The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he seems 
To mention but as feverish dreams. 

XIX. 

" In vain," said he, H to rest I spread 

My burning limbs, and couched my head : 

Fantastic thoughts returned ; 
And, by their wild dominion led, 

My heart within me burned. 
So sore was the delirious goad, 
I took my steed, and forth I rode, 






*to iv. THE CAMP. 207 

And, as the moon shone bright and cold, 
Soon reached the camp upon the wold. 
The southern entrance I passed through, 
And halted, and my bugle blew. 
Methought an answer met my ear, — 
Yet was the blast so low and drear, 
So hollow, and so faintly blown, 
It might be echo of my own. 

XX. 

" Thus judging, for a little space 
I listened, ere I left the place ; 

But scarce could trust my eyes, 
Nor yet can think they served me true, 
When sudden in the ring I view, 
In form distinct of shape and hue, 

A mounted champion rise. — 
I've fought, Lord-Lion, many a day, 
In single fight, and mixed affray, 
And ever, I myself may say, 



SOS MA11MION. canto 

Have bome me as a knight ; 
But when this unexpected foe 
Seemed starting from the gulph below, — 
I care not though the truth I show, — 

I trembled with affright ; 
And as I placed in rest my spear, 
My hand so shook for very fear, 

I scarce could couch it right. 

XXL 

" Why need my tongue the issue tell r 
We ran our course, — my charger fell ; — 
What could he 'gainst the shock of hell ? — 

I rolled upon the plain. 
High o'er my head, with threatening hand, 
The spectre shook his naked brand, — 

Yet did the worst remain ; 
My dazzled eyes I upward cast, — 
Not opening hell itself could blast 

Their sight, like what I saw ! 

11 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 209 

Full on his face the moonbeam strook, — 
A face could never be mistook ! 
I knew the stern vindictive look, 

And held my breath for awe. 
I saw the face of one who, fled 
To foreign climes, has long been dead,— 

I well believe the last ; 
For ne'er, from visor raised, did stare 
A human warrior, with a glare 

So grimly and so ghast. 
Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade ; 
But when to good Saint George I prayed, 
(The first time e'er 1 asked his aid,) 

He plunged it in the sheath ; 
And, on his courser mounting light, 
He seemed to vanish from my sight : 
The moonbeam drooped, and deepest night 

Sunk down upon the heath. — 



210 MARMION. canto iv. 

'Twere long to tell what cause I have 
To know his face, that met me there, 

Called by his hatred from the grave 
To cumber upper air : 

Dead, or alive, good cause had he 

To be my mortal enemy." — 

XXII. 

Marvelled Sir David of the Mount ; 
Then, learned in story, 'gan recount 

Such chance had happ'd of old, 
When once, near Norham, there did fight 
A spectre fell of fiendish might, 
In likeness of a Scottish knight, 

With Brian Buhner bold, 
And trained him nigh to disallow 
The aid of his baptismal vow. 

" And such a phantom, too, 'tis said, 

With Highland broad-sword, targe, and plaid, 

And fingers red with gore, 

4 






canto iv. THE CAMP. 8*j 

Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade, 

Or where the sable pine-trees shade 

Dark Tomantoul, and Achnaslaid, 

Dromouchty, or Glenmore. # 
And yet, whate'er such legends say, 
Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay, 

On mountain, moor, or plain, 
Spotless in faith, in bosom bold, 
True son of chivalry should hold 

These midnight terrors vain ; 
For seldom have such spirits power 
To harm, save in the evil hour, 
When guilt we meditate within, 
Or harbour unrepented sin." — 
Lord Marmion turned him half aside, 
And twice to clear his voice he tried, 

Then pressed Sir David's hand, — 

But nought, at length, in answer said ; 

And here their farther converse staid, 

* See the traditions concerning Bulmer, and the spec- 
tre called Lhamdearg, or Bloody-hand, in a note on 
Canto III. 



212 MARMION. canto it. 

Each ordering that his band 
Should bowne thern with the rising day, 
To Scotland's camp to take their way, — 

Such was the King's command. 

XXIII. 

Early they took Dun-Edin's road, 
And I could trace each step they trode j 
Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone, 
Lies on the path to me unknown. 
Much might it boast of storied lore ; 
But, passing such digression o'er, 
Suffice it that their route was laid 
Across the furzy hills of Braid. 
They passed the glen and scanty rill, 
And climbed the op dng bank, until 
They gained the top of Blackford Hill. 

XXIV. 

Blackford ! on whose uncultured breast, 
Among the broom, and thorn, and whin, 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 213 

A truant-boy, I sought the nest, 

Or listed, as I lay at rest, 
While rose, on breezes thin, 

The murmur of the city crowd, 

And, from his steeple jangling loud, 
Saint Giles's mingling din. 
Now from the summit to the plain, 
Waves all the hill with yellow grain ; N 

And o'er the landscape as I look, 
Nought do I see unchanged remain, 

Save the rude cliffs and chiming brook. 
To me they make a heavy moan 
Of early friendships past and gone. 

XXV. 
But different far the change has been, 

Since Marmion, from the crown 
Of Blackford, saw that martial scene 

Upon the bent so brown : 
Thousand pavilions, white as snow, 
Spread all the Borough-moor below, 



214 MARMION. canto iv. 

Upland, and dale, and down : 
A thousand did I say ? I ween, 
Thousands on thousands there were seen, 
That chequered all the heath between 

The streamlet and the town ; 
In crossing ranks extending far, 
Forming a camp irregular; 
Oft giving way, where still there stood 
Some reliques of the old oak wood, 
That darkly huge did intervene, 
And tamed the glaring white with green: 
In these extended lines there lay 
A martial kingdom's vast array. 

XXVI. 

For from Hebudes, dark with rain, 
To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, 
And from the southern Redswire edge, 
To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge ; 
From west to east, from south to north, 
Scotland sent all her warriors forth. 



eANxo iv. THE CAMP. g!5 

Mamiion might hear the mingled hum 
Of myriads up the mountain come ; 
The horses' tramp, and tingling clank, 
Where chiefs reviewed their vassal rank, 

And charger's shrilling neigh ; 
And see the shifting lines advance, 
While frequent flashed, from shield and lance, 

The sun's reflected ray. 

XXVII. 

Thin curling in the morning air, 

The wreaths of failing smoke declare, 

To embers now the brands decayed, 

Where the night-watch their fires had made. 

They saw, slow rolling on the plain, 

Full many a baggage-cart and wain, 

And dire artillery's clumsy car, 

By sluggish oxen tugged to war ; 

And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven,* 

And culverins which France had given. 

* Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwiek. 



216 MARMION. canto it. 

Ill-omened gift ! the guns remain 

The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. 

XXVIII. 

Nor marked they less, where in the air 
A thousand streamers flaunted fair ; 
Various in shape, device, and hue, 
Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, 
Broad, narrow, swallow-tailed, and square, 
Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol, # there 

O'er the pavilions flew. 
Highest, and midmost, was descried 
The royal banner floating wide ; 

The staff", a pine-tree strong and straight, 
Pitched deeply in a massive stone, 
Which still in memory is shown, 
Yet bent beneath the standard's weight, 
Whene'er the western wind unrolled, 



* Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different 
rank of those entitled to display them. 



canto it. THE CAMP. 217 

With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, 
And gave to view the dazzling field, 
Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, 

The ruddy Lion ramped in gold. 

XXIX. 

Lord Marmion viewed the landscape bright, — 
He viewed it with a chief's delight, — 
Until within him burned his heart, 
And lightning from his eye did part, 

As on the battle-day; — 
Such glance did falcon never dart, 

When stooping on his prey. — 
i( Oh ! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said, 
Thy King from warfare to dissuade 

Were but a vain essay ; 
For, by Saint George, were that host mine, 
Mot power infernal, nor divine, 
Should once to peace my soul incline, 
Till I had dimmed their armour's shine. 



218 MARMION. canto iv. 

In glorious battle fray !" — 
Answered the bard, of milder mood : 
" Fair is the sight, — and yet 'twere good, 

That kings would think withal, 
When peace and wealth their land has blessed, 
'Tis better to sit still at rest, 

Than rise, perchance to fall." — 

XXX. 

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stayed, 
For fairer scene he ne'er surveyed, 

When, sated with the martial show 

That peopled all the plain below, 

The wandering eye could o'er it go, 

And mark the distant city glow 
With gloomy splendour red ; 

For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, 

That round her sable turrets flow, 
The morning beams were shed, 

And tinged them with a lustre proud, 

Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 219 

Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, 
Where the huge castle holds its state, 

And all the steep slope down, 
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, 
Piled deep and massy, close and high, 

Mine own romantic town ! 
But northward far, with purer blaze, 
On Ochil mountains fell the rays, 
And as each heathy top they kissed, 
It gleamed a purple amethyst. 

Yonder the shores of Fife you saw ; 

Here Preston- Bay, and Berwick-Law ; 
And, broad between them rolled, 

The gallant Firth the eye might note, 

Whose islands on its bosom float, 
Like emeralds chased in gold. 
Fitz- Eustace' heart felt closely pent ; 
As if to give his rapture vent, 
The spur he to his charger lent, 

And raised his bridle-hand, 



220 MARMION. canto iv. 

And, making demi-volte in air, 

Cried, " Where's the coward that would not dare 

To fight for such a land !" 
The Lindesay smiled his joy to see; 
Nor Marmion's frown repressed his glee. 

XXXI. 

Thus while they looked, a flourish proud, 
Where mingled trump, and clarion loud, 

And fife, and kettle-drum, 
And sackbut deep, and psaltery, 
And war-pipe with discordant ciy, 
And cymbal clattering to the sky, 
Making wild music bold and high, 

Did up the mountain come ; 
The whilst the bells, with distant chime, 
Merrily tolled the hour of prime, 

And thus the Lindesay spoke : — 
" Thus clamour still the war-notes when 
The King to mass his way has ta'en, 

1 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 221 

Or to Saint Catherine's of Sienne, 

Or chapel of Saint Rocque. 
To you they speak of martial fame ; 
But me remind of peaceful game, 

When blither was their cheer, 
Thrilling in Falkland- woods the air, 
In signal none his steed should spare, 
But strive which foremost might repair 
To the downfall of the deer. 

XXXII. 

" Nor less," he said, — ff when looking forth, 
I view yon Empress of the North 

Sit on her hilly throne ; 
Her palace's imperial bowers, 
Her castle proof to hostile powers, 
Her stately halls and holy towers — 

Nor less," he said, " I moan, 
To think what woe mischance may bring, 
And how these merry bells may ring 
The death-dirge of our gallant King ; 



222 MARMION. canto iv. 

Or, with their larum, call 
The burghers forth to watch and ward, 
'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard 

Dun-Edin's leaguered wall. — 
But not for my presaging thought, 
Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought! 

Lord Marmion, I say nay : — * 
God is the guider of the field, 
He breaks the champion's spear and shield, — - 

But thou thyself shalt say, 
When joins yon host in deadly stowre, 
That England's dames must weep in bower, 

Her monks the death-mass sing ; 
For never saw'st thou such a power 

Led on by such a king." — 
And now, down winding to the plain, 
The barriers of the camp they gain, 

And there they made a stay. — 
There stays the Minstrel, till he fling 
His hand o'er evevy Border string, 



canto iv. THE CAMP. 223 

And fit his harp the pomp to sing, 
Of Scotland's ancient Court and King, 
In the succeeding lay. 



END OF CANTO FOURTH, 



MARMION. 



Jntcotnietton to Canto jFiftg* 



C 227 ] 



TO 

GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. 

Edinburgh, 
When dark December glooms the day, 
And takes our autumn joys away; 
When short and scant the sun-beam throws. 
Upon the weary waste of snows, 
A cold and profitless regard, 
Like patron on a needy bard ; 
When sylvan occupation's done, 
And o'er the chimney rests the gun, 
And hang, in idle trophy, near, 
The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear ; 



223 INTRODUCTION 

When wiry terrier, rough and grim, 
And greyhound, with his length of limb, 
And pointer, now employed no more, 
Camber our parlour's narrow floor; 
When in his stall the impatient steed 
Is long condemned to rest and feed ; 
When from our snow-encircled home, 
Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam, 
Since path is none, save that to bring 
The needful water from the spring ; 
When wrinkled news-page, thrice conM o'er, 
Beguiles the dreary hour no more, 
And darkling politician, crossed, 
Inveighs against the lingering post, 
And answering house-wife sore complains 
Of carriers' snow-impeded wains : 
When such the country cheer, I come, 
Well pleased, to seek our city home ; 
For converse, and for books, to change 

The Forest's melancholy range, 
10 



TO CANTO FIFTH. 



229 



Arid welcome, with renewed delight, 
The busy day, and social night. 

Not here need my desponding rhyme 
Lament the ravages of time, 
As erst by Newark's riven towers, 
And Ettricke stripped of forest bowers.* 
True, — Caledonia's Queen is changed, 
Since on her dusky summit ranged, 
Within its steepy limits pent, 
By bulwark, line, and battlement, 
And flanking towers, and laky flood, 
Guarded and garrisoned she stood, 
Denying entrance or resort, 
Save at each tall embattled port ; 
Above whose arch, suspended, hung 
Portcullis spiked with iron prong. 
That long is gone, — but not so long, 



* See Introduction to Canto II. 



230 INTRODUCTION 

Since, early closed, and opening late, 
Jealous revolved the studded gate ; 
Whose task, from eve to morning tide, 
A wicket churlishly supplied. 
Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow, 
Dun-Edin ! O, how altered now, 
When safe amid thy mountain court 
Thou sitst, like Empress at her sport, 
And liberal, uncon fined, and free, 
Flinging thy white arms to the sea, 
For thy dark cloud, with umbered lower, 
That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower, 
Thou gleam'st against the western ray 
Ten thousand lines of brighter day. 

Not she, the championess of old, 
In Spenser's magic tale enrolled, 
She for the charmed spear renowned, 
Which forced each knight to kiss the ground, — 
Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, 



TO CANTO FIFTH. 231 

What time she was Maibeceo's guest,* 
She gave to flow her maiden vest ; 
When from the corslet's grasp relieved, 
Free to the sight her bosom heaved ; 
Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, 
Erst hidden by the aventayle ; 
And down her shoulders graceful rolled 
Her locks profuse, of paly gold. 
They who whilome, in midnight fight, 
Had marvelled at her matchless might, 
No less her maiden charms approved, 
But looking liked, and liking loved, f 
The sight could jealous pangs beguile, 
And charm Malbecco's cares awhile ; 
And he, the wandering Squire of Dames, 
Forgot his Columbella's claims, 
And passion, erst unknown, could gain 
The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane ; 

* See " The Fairy Queen," Book III. Canto IX. 
f " For every one her liked, and every one her loved." 

Spenser, as above. 






232 INTRODUCTION 

Nor durst light Paridel advance, 

Bold as he was, a looser glance, — 

She charmed, at once, and tamed the heart, 

Incomparable Britomarte I 

So thou, fair City ! disarrayed 
Of battled wall, and rampart's aid, 
As stately seem'st, but lovelier far ■. 

Than in that panoply of war. 
Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne 
Strength and security are flown ; 
Still, as of yore, Queen of the North ! 
Still canst thou send thy children forth. 
Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call 
Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, 
Than now, in danger, shall be thine, 
Thy dauntless voluntary line ; 
For fosse and turret proud to stand, 
Their breasts the bulwarks of the land, 
Thy thousands, trained to martial toil, 
Full red would stain their native soil, 



TO CANTO FIFTH. 233 

Ere from thy mural crown there fell 
The slightest knosp, or pinnacle. 
And if it come, — as come it may, 
Dun-Edin ! that eventful day, — 
Renowned for hospitable deed, 
That virtue much with heaven may plead, 
In patriarchal times whose care 
Descending angels deigned to share ; 
That claim may wrestle blessings down 
On those who fight for the Good Town, 
Destined in every age to be 
Refuge of injured royalty; 
Since first, when conquering York arose, 
To Henry meek she gave repose, 
Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, 
Great Bourbon's reliques, sad she saw. 

Truce to these thoughts ! — for, as they rise, 
How gladly I avert mine eyes, 
Bodings, or true or false, to change, 
For Fiction's fair romantic range, 



234 INTRODUCTION 

Or for Tradition's dubious light, 
That hovers 'twixt the day and night : 
Dazzling alternately and dim, 
Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim, 
Knights, squires, and lovely dames to see, 
Creation of my fantasy, 
Than gaze abroad on reeky fen, 
And make of mists invading men. — 
Who loves not more the night of June 
Than dull December's gloomy noon ? 
The moonlight than the fog of frost ? 
And can we say, which cheats the most i 

But who shall teach my harp to gain 
A sound of the romantic strain, 
Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere 
Could win the Royal Henry's ear, 
Famed Beauclerc called, for that he loved 
The minstrel, and his la}' approved ? 
Who shall these lingering notes redeem, 
Decaying on Oblivion's stream ; 



TO CANTO FIFTH. S3;> 

Such notes as from the Breton tongue 

Marie translated, Blondel sung ? — 

O! born Time's ravage to repair, 

And make the dying Muse thy care ; 

Who, when his scythe her hoary foe 

Was poising for the final blow, 

The weapon from his hand could wring, 

And break his glass, and shear his wing, 

And bid, reviving in his strain, 

The gentle poet live again ; 

Thou, who canst give to lightest lay 

An unpedantic moral gay, 

Nor less the dullest theme bid flit 

On wings of unexpected wit ; 

In letters as in life approved, 

Example honoured, and beloved, — 

Dear Ellis ! to the bard impart 

A lesson of thy magic art, 

To win at once the head and heart/ — 

At once to charm, instruct, and mend, 

My guide, my pattern, and my friend i 



23G INTRODUCTION 

Such minstrel lesson to bestow 
Be long thy pleasing task, — but, O! 
No more by thy example teach 
What few can practice, all can preach ; 
With even patience to endure 
Lingering disease, and painful cure, 
And boast affliction's pangs subdued 
By mild and manly fortitude. 
Enough, the lesson has been given : 
Forbid the repetition, Heaven ! 

Come listen, then ! for thou hast known, 
And loved the Minstrel's varying tone ; 
Who, like his Border sires of old, 
Waked a wild measure rude and bold, 
Till Windsor's oaks, and Ascot plain, 
With wonder heard the northern strain. 
Come, listen ! — bold in thy applause, 
The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws ; 
And, as the ancient art could stain 
Achievements on the storied pane, 



TO CANTO FIFTH. 237 

Irregularly traced and planned, 
But yet so glowing and so grand ; 
So shall he strive, in changeful hue, 
Field, feast, and combat, to renew, 
And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee, 
And all the pomp of chivalry. 



MARMION 



CANTO FIFTH. 



%%t Court* 



[ 241 ] 



MARMION 



CANTO FIFTH. 



%fy Cotitiv 



I. 

The train has left the hills of Braid ; 
The barrier guard have open made, 
(So Lindesay bade,) the palisade, 

That closed the tented ground ; 
Their men the warders backward drew, 
And carried pikes as they rode through, 

Into its ample bound. 
Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, 
Upon the Southern band to stare ; 
9 



242 MARMION. ca 

And envy with their wonder rose. 
To see such well-appointed foes ; 
Such length of shafts, such mighty bows, 
So huge, that many simply thought, 
But for a vaunt such weapons wrought ; 
And little deemed their force to feel, 
Through links of mail, and plates of steel, 
When, rattling upon Flodden vale, 
The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail. 

II. 

Nor less did Marmion's skilful view 
Glance every line and squadron through ; 
And much he marvelled one small land 
Could marshal forth such various band : 

For men-at-arms were here, 
Heavily sheathed in mail and plate, 
Like iron towers for strength and weight, 
On Flemish steeds of bone and height, 

With battle-axe and spear. 
11 



anto y. THE COURT. 243 

Young knights and squires, a lighter train, 
Practised their chargers on the plain, 
By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, 

Each warlike feat to show ; 
To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain, 
And high curvett, that not in vain 
The sword-sway might descend amain 

On foeman's casque below. 
He saw the hardy burghers there 
March armed, on foot, with faces bare, 

For visor they wore none, 
Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight ; 
But burnished were their corslets bright, 
Their brigantines, and gorgets light, 

Like very silver shone. 
Long pikes they had for standing fight, 

Two-handed swords they wore, 
And many wielded mace of weight, 

And bucklers bright they bore. 



244 M ARM ION. canto v 

III. 

On foot the yeoman too, but dressed 
In his steel jack, a swarthy vest, 

With iron quilted well ; 
Each at his back, (a slender store,) 
His forty days provision bore, 

As feudal statutes tell. 
His arms were halbard, axe, or spear, 
A cross-bow there, a hagbut here, 

A dagger-knife, and brand. — 
Sober he seemed, and sad of cheer, 
As loth to leave his cottage dear, 

And march to foreign strand ; 
Or musing, who would guide his steer, 

To till the fallow land. 
Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye 
Did aught of dastard terror lie ; 

More dreadful far his ire, 
Than their's, who, scorning danger's name, 



canto v. THE COURT. 245 

In eager mood to battle came, 
Their valour, like light straw on flame, 
A fierce but fading fire. 

IV. 

Not so the Borderer : — bred to war, 
He knew the battle's din afar, 

And joyed to hear it swell. 
His peaceful day was slothful ease ; 
Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please, 

Like the loud slogan yell. 
On active steed, with lance and blade, 
The light-armed pricker plied his trade, — 

Let nobles fight for fame ; 
Let vassals follow where they lead, 
Burghers, to guard their townships, bleed, 

But war's the Borderer's game. 
Their gain, their glory, their delight, 
To sleep the day, maraud the night, 

O'er mountain, moss, and moor ; 



246 MARMION. canto v. 

Joyful to fight they took their way, 
Scarce caring who might win the day, 

Their booty was secure. 
These, as Lord Marmion's train passed by, 
Looked on at first with careless eye, 
Nor marvelled aught, well taught to know 
The form and force of English bow. 

But when they saw the Lord arrayed 

In splendid arms, and rich brocade, 

Each Borderer to his kinsman said, — 

" Hist, Ringan ! seest thou there ! 
Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride \ — 
O ! could we but on Border side, 
By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide, 

Beset a prize so fair ! 
That fangless Lion, too, their guide, 
Might chance to lose his glistering hide ; 
BroWn Maudlin, of that doublet pied, 

Could make a kirtle rare." 






canto r. THE COURT. 247 

V. 

Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race, 
Of different language, form, and face, 

A various race of man ; 
Just then the chiefs their tribes arrayed, 
And wild and garish semblance made, 
The chequered trews, and belted plaid, 
And varying notes the war-pipes brayed, 

To every varying clan ; 
Wild through their red or sable hair 
Looked out their eyes, with savage stare, 

On Marmion as he past ; 
Their legs above the knee were bare ; 
Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, 

And hardened to the blast ; 
Of taller race, the chiefs they own 
Were by the eagle's plumage known. 
The hunted red-deer's undressed hide 
Their hairy buskins well supplied ; 
The graceful bonnet decked their head ; 
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid ; 



248 MARMION. canto 

A broad-sword of unwieldy length, 
A dagger proved for edge and strength, 

A studded targe they wore, 
And quivers, bows, and shafts, — but, O ! 
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, 

To that which England bore. 
The Isles-men carried at their backs 
The ancient Danish battle-axe. 
They raised a wild and wondering cry, 
As with his guide rode Marmion by. 
Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when 
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen, 
And, with their cries discordant mixed, 
Grumbled and yelled the pipes betwixt. 

VI. 

Thus through the Scottish camp they passed, 
And reached the City gate at last, 
Where all around, a wakeful guard, 
Armed burghers kept their watch and ward. 






canto v. THE COURT. 249 

Well had they cause of jealous fear, 
When lay encamped, in field so near, 
The Borderer and the Mountaineer. 
As through the bustling streets they go, 
All was alive with martial show ; 
At every turn, with dinning clang, 
The armourer's anvil clashed and rang j 
Or toiled the swarthy smith, to wheel 
The bar that arms the charger's heel ; 
Or axe, or faulchion to the side 
Of jarring grind-stone was applied. 

Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace, 
Through street, and lane, and market-place, 

Bore lance, or casque, or sword ; 
While burghers, with important face, 

Described each new-come lord, 
Discussed his lineage, told his name, 
His following, # and his warlike fame. 
The Lion led to lodging meet, 
Which high o'erlooked the crowded street ; 

* Following— Feudal Retainers. 



250 MARMION. canto v. 

There must the Baron rest, 
Till past the hour of vesper tide, 
And then to Holy-Rood must ride, — • 

Such was the King's behest. 
Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns 
A banquet rich, and costly wines, 

To Marmion and his train ; 
And when the appointed hour succeeds, 
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds, 
And following Lindesay as he leads, 

The palace-halls they gain. 

VIL 

Old Holy-Rood rung merrily, 
That night, with wassel, mirth, and glee : 
King James within her princely bower 
Feasted the chiefs of Scotland's power. 
Summoned to spend the parting hour; 
For he had charged, that his array 
Should southward march by break of day. 
Well loved that splendid monarch aye 



THE COURT. 251 



The banquet and the song, 
By day the tourney, and by night 
The merry dance, traced fast and light, 
The masquers quaint, the pageant bright, 

The revel loud and long. 
This feast outshone his banquets past ; 
It was his blithest, — and his last. 
The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay, 
Cast on the court a dancing ray ; 
Here to the harp did minstrels sing ; 
There ladies touched a softer string ; 
With long-eared cap, and motley vest, 
The licensed fool retailed his jest ; 
His magic tricks the juggler plied ; 
At dice and draughts the gallants vied ; 
While some, in close recess apart, 
Courted the ladies of their heart, 

Nor courted them in vain ; 
For often, in the parting hour, 
Victorious Love asserts his powe? 



252 MARMION. canto v. 

O'er coldness and disdain ; 
And flinty is her heart, can view 
To battle march a lover true,— 
Can hear, perchance, his last adieu, 

Nor own her share of pain. 

VIII. 

Through this mixed crowd of glee and game, 
The King to greet Lord Marmion came, 

While, reverend, all made room. 
An easy task it was, I trow, 
King James's manly form to know, 
Although, his courtesy to show, 
He doffed, to Marmion bending low, 

His broidered cap and plume. 
For royal were his garb and mien, 

His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, 

Trimmed with the^fur of martin wild ; 
His vest, of changeful sattin sheen, 

The dazzled eye beguiled ; 






canto v; THE COURT. 253 

His gorgeous collar hung adown, 

Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown, 

The thistle brave, of old renown ; 

His trusty blade, Toledo right, 

Descended from a baldric bright ; 

White were his buskins, on the heel 

His spurs inlaid of gold and steel ; 

His bonnet, all of crimson fair, 

Was buttoned with a ruby rare : 

And Marmion deemed he ne'er had seen 

A prince of such a noble mien. 

IX. 

The Monarch's form was middle size ; 
For feat of strength, or exercise, 

Shaped in proportion fair ; 
And hazle was his eagle eye, 
And auburn of the darkest dye 

His short curled beard and hair. 
Light was his footstep in the dance, 

And firm his stirrup in the lists ; 



254 MARMIOtf. canto v. 

And, oh ! he had that merry glance, 

That seldom lady's heart resists. 
Lightly from fair to fair he flew, 
And loved to plead, lament, and sue ; — 
Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain ! 
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain. 
I said he joyed in banquet-bower ; 

But, mid his mirth, 'twas often strange, 
How suddenly his cheer would change, 
His look o'ercast and lower, 
If, in a sudden turn, he felt 
The pressure of his iron belt, 
That bound his breast in penance pain, 

In memory of his father slain. 
Even so 'twas strange how, evermore, 
Soon as the passing pang was o'er, 
Forward he rushed, with double glee, 
Into the stream of revelry : 
Thus, dim-seen object of affright 
Startles the courser in his flight, 



banto v. THE COURT. 255 

And half he halls, half springs aside ; 
But feels the quickening spur applied, 
And, straining on the tightened rein, 
Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain. 

X. 
O'er James's heart, the courtiers say, 
Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway : 

To Scotland's court she came, 
To be a hostage for her lord, 
Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored, 
And with the King to make accord, 

Had sent his lovely dame. 
Nor to that lady free alone 
Did the gay King allegiance own ; 

For the fair Queen of France 
Sent him a Turquois ring, and glove, 
And charged him, as her knight and love, 

For her to break a lance ; 
And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, 



256 MARMION. canto v. 

And march three miles on Southron land, 
And bid the banners of his band 

In English breezes dance. 
And thus, for France's Queen he drest 
His manly limbs in mailed vest ; 
And thus admitted English fair 
His inmost counsels still to share ; 
And thus, for both, he madly planned 
The ruin of himself and land ! 

And yet, the sooth to tell, 
Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen, 
Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, 
From Margaret's eyes that fell, — 
His own Oueen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, 
All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. 

XL 

The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, 

And weeps the weary day, 
The war against her native soil, 



to v. THE COURT. *57 

Her Monarch's risk in battle broil ; — 
And in gay Holy-Rood, the white, 
Dame Heron rises with a smile 

Upon the harp to play. 
Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er 

The strings her fingers flew; 
And as she touched and tuned them all, 
Ever her bosom's rise and fall 

Was plainer given to view ; 
For all, for heat, was laid aside, 
Her wimple, and her hood untied. 
And first she pitched her voice to sing, 
Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 
And then around the silent ring ; 
And laughed, and blushed, and oft did say 
Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, 
She could not, would not, durst not play ! 
At length, upon the harp, with glee, 
Mingled with arch simplicity, 
A soft, yet lively, air she rung, 
While thus the wily lady sung, 
it 



258 MARMION. eANTO v. 

XII. 

LOCHINVAR. 

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, 
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; 
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none, 
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, 
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none ; 
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
The bride had consented, the gallant came late : 
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 
Among bride's-rnen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and 
all: 



castto v. THE COURT. 259 

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 
" O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" — 

c< I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; — 
Love swells like the Sol way, but ebbs like its tide — 
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 

The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up, 
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — 
<c Isow tread we a measure !" said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 
That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 



260 MARMION. CANrO v. 

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and 
plume ; 

And the bride-maidens whispered, " Twere better 
by far 

To have matched our fair cousin with young Loch- 
invar." 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger 

stood near ; 
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
" She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young 

Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby 

clan; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and 

they ran : 



mmo v. THE COURT. 261 

There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, 
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? 

XIII. 

The Monarch o'er the syren hung, 
And beat the measure as she sung ; 
And, pressing closer, and more near, 
He whispered praises in her ear. 
In loud applause the courtiers vied ; 
And ladies winked, and spoke aside. 

The witching dame to Marmion threw 
A glance, where seemed to reign 

The pride that claims applauses due, 

And of her royal conquest, too, 
A real or feigned disdain : 

Familiar was the look, and told, 

Marmion and she were friends of old. 
The King observed their meeting eyes, 
With something like displeased surprise ; 



I 

262 MARMIOJff. canto v. 

For monarchs ill can rivals brook, 
Even in a word, or smile, or look. 
Strait took he forth the parchment broad, 
Which Marmion's high commission showed : 
<e Our Borders sacked by many a raid, 
Our peaceful liege-men robbed," he said ; 
" On day of truce our Warden slain, 
Stout Barton killed, his vessels ta'en — 
Unworthy were we here to reign, 
Should these for vengeance cry in vain ; 
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn, 
Our herald has to Henry borne. ,, — 

XIV. 

He paused, and led where Douglas stood, 
And with stern eye the pageant viewed : 

I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore, 

Who coronet of Angus bore, 

And, when his blood and heart were high, 

Did the third James in camp defy, 

And all his minions led to die 



oanto v. THE COURT. 263 

On Lauder's dreary flat : 
Princes and favourites long grew tame, 
And trembled at the homely name 

Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat. 
The same who left the dusky vale 
Of Hermitage in Liddisdale, 

Its dungeons, and its towers, 
Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air, 
And Bothwell bank is blooming fair, 

To fix his princely bowers. 
Though now, in age, he had laid down 
His armour for the peaceful gown, 

And for a staff his brand, 
Yet often would flash forth the fire, 
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire 

And minion's pride withstand ; 
And even that day, at council board, 

Unapt to sooth his sovereign's mood, 

Against the war had Angus stood, 
And chafed his royal Lord. 



261 MARMION. canto i 

XV. 

His giant-form, like ruined tower, 

Though fallen its muscles' brawny vaunt, 
Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, aud gaunt, 

Seemed o'er the gaudy scene to lower : 
His locks and beard in silver grew ; 
His eye-brows kept their sable hue. 
Near Douglas when the Monarch stood, 
His bitter speech he thus pursued : — 
" Lord Marmion, since these letters say 
That in the North you needs must stay, 

While slightest hopes of peace remain, 
Uncourteous speech it were, and stern, 
To say— Return to Lindisfarn, 

Until my herald come again.— 
Then rest you in Tantallon Hold , 
Your host shall be the Douglas bold, — 
A chief unlike his sires of old. 
He wears their motto on his blade, 
Their blazon o'er his towers displayed ; 
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose, 
More than to face his country's foes. 



janto v. THE COURT. 265 

And, I bethink me, by Saint Stephen, 
But e'en this morn to me was given 
A prize, the first fruits of the war, 
Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar, 

A bevy of the maids of heaven. 
Under your guard, these holy maids 
Shall safe return to cloister shades, 
And, while they at Tantallon stay, 
Requiem for Cochran's soul may say." — 
And, with the slaughtered favourite's name, 
Across the Monarch's brow there came 
A cloud of ire, remorse, and shame. 

XVI. 

In answer nought could Angus speak ; 

His proud heart swelled well nigh to break : 
He turned aside, and down his cheel^ 

A burning t#ar there stole. 
His hand the Monarch sudden took, 
That sight his kind heart could not brook : 

<f Now, by the Bruce's soul, 



6& MARMION. canto t. 

Angus, my hasty speech forgive ! 
For sure as doth his spirit live, 
As he said of the Douglas old, 

I well may say of you, — 
That never king did subject hold, 
In speech more free, in war more bold, 

More tender, and more true : # 
Forgive me, Douglas, once again." — 
And, while the King his hand did strain, 
The old man's tears fell down like rain. 
To seize the moment Marmion tried, 
And whispered to the King aside : — 
" Oh ! let such tears unwonted plead 
For respite short from dubious deed 1 
A child will weep a bramble's smart, 
A maid to see her sparrow part, 
A stripling for a woman's heart: 
But woe awaits a country, when 
She sees the tears of bearded men. 

* O, Dowglas ! Dowglas ! 
Tendir and trew. 

The Houlate. 



eANio v. TPIE COURT. 267 

Then, oh ! what omen, dark and high, 
When Douglas wets his manly eye !" — 

XVII. 

Displeased was James, that stranger viewed 

And tampered with his changing mood. 

u Laugh those that can, weep those that may," 

Thus did the fiery Monarch say, 

u Southward I march by break of day ; 

And if within Tantallon strong, 

The good Lord Marmion tarries long, 

Perchance our meeting next may fall 

At Tamworth, in his castle-hall." — 

The haughty Marmion felt the taunt, 

And answered, grave, the royal vaunt: 

" Much honoured were my humble home, 

If in its halls King James should come ; 

But Nottingham has archers good, 

And Yorkshire men are stern of mood ; 

Northumbrian prickers wild and rude. 






2GB 1MAUMI0N. canto v. 

On Derby Hills the paths are steep ; 

In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep ; 

And many a banner will be torn, 

And many a knight to earth be borne, 

And many a sheaf of arrows spent, 

Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent : 

Yet pause, brave prince, while yet you may." — 

The Monarch lightly turned away, 

And to his nobles loud did call, — 

" Lords, to the dance, — a hall ! a hall !" * 

Himself his cloak and sword flung by, 

And led Dame Heron gallantly ; 

And minstrels, at the royal order, 

Rung out — " Blue Bonnets o'er the Border." 

XVIII. 

Leave we these revels now, to tell 
What to Saint Hilda's maids befel, 

* The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant. 









canto v. THE COURT. 

Whose galley,, as they sailed again 
To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'en. 
Now at Dun-Edin did they bide, 
Till James should of their fate decide ; 

And soon, by his command, 
Were gently summoned to prepare 
To journey under Mannion's care, 
As escort honoured, safe, and fair, 

Again to English land. 
The Abbess told her chaplet o'er, 
Nor knew which Saint she should implore $ 
For, when she thought of Constance, sore 

She feared Lord Mannion's mood. 
And judge what Clara must have felt ! 
The sword, that hung in Mannion's belt, 

Had drunk De Wilton's blood. 
Unwittingly, King James had given, 

As guard to Whitby's shades, 
The man most dreaded under heaven 

By these defenceless maids ; 



270 MARMION. canto r. 

Yet what petition could avail, 
Or who would listen to the tale 
Of woman, prisoner and nun, 
Mid bustle of a war begun ? 
They deemed it hopeless to avoid 
The convoy of their dangerous guide. 

XIX. 

Their lodging, so the King assigned, 
To Marmion's, as their guardian, joined • 
And thus it fell, that, passing nigh, 
The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye, 

Who warned him by a scroll, 
She had a secret to reveal, 
That much concerned the Church's weal, 

And health of sinners' soul ; 
And, with deep charge of secrecy, 

She named a place to meet, 
Within an open balcony, 
That hung from dizzy pitch, and high, 

Above the stately street ; 



camto v. THE COURT. 271 

To which, as common to each home, 
At night they might in secret come. 

XX. 

At night, in secret, there they came, 
The Palmer and the holy dame. 
The moon among the clouds rode high, 
And all the city hum was by. 
Upon the street, where late before 
Did din of war and warriors roar, 

You might have heard a pebble fall, 
A beetle hum, a cricket sing, 
An owlet flap his boding wing 
On Giles's steeple tall. 
The antique buildings, climbing high, 
Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky, 

"vVere here wrapt deep in shade ; 
There on their brows the moon-beam broke, 
Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke, 
And on the casements played. 



272 MARMION. canto v. 

And other light was none lo see. 

Save torches gliding far, 
Before some chieftain of degree, 
Who left the royal revelry 

To bowne him for the war. — 
A solemn scene the Abbess chose ; 
A solemn hour, her secret to disclose. 

XXI. 

" O, holy Palmer !" she began, — 
" For sure he must be sainted man, 
Whose blessed feet have trod the ground 
Where the Redeemer's tomb is found ; — 
For his dear Church's sake, my tale 
Attend, nor deem of light avail, 
Though I must speak of worldly love,— 
How vain to those who wed above ! — 
De Wilton and Lord Marmion wooed 
Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood ; 
(Idle it were of Whitby's dame, 
To say of that same blood I came ;) 






canto v. THE COURT. 273 

And once, when jealous rage was high, 
Lord Marmion said despiteously, 
Wilton was traitor in his heart, 
And had made league with Martin Swart, * 
When he came here on Simnel's part; 
And only cowardice did restrain 
His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain, — 
And down he threw his glove : — the thing 
Was tried, as wont, before the king ; 
Where frankly did De Wilton own, 
That Swart in Guelders he had known ; 
And that between them then there went 
Some scroll of courteous compliment. 
For this he to his castle sent ; 
But when his messenger returned, 
Judge how De Wilton's fury burned ! 
For in his packet there were laid 

* A German general, who commanded the auxiliaries sent 
by the Duchess of Burgundy with Lambert Simnel. He was 
defeated and killed at Stokefield. 



274 MARMIOX. oawto v. 

Letters that claimed disloyal aid. 
And proved King Henry's cause betrayed. 
His fame, thus blighted, in the field 
He strove to clear, by spear and shield ;■ — 
To clear his fame in vain he strove, 
For wonderous are His ways above ! 
Perchance some form was unobserved ; 
Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved ; 
Else how could guiltless champion quail, 
Or how the blessed ordeal fail ? 

XXII. 
u His squire, who now De Wilton saw 

As recreant doomed to surfer law, 

Repentant, owned in vain, 
That, while he had the scrolls in care, 
A stranger maiden, passing fair, 
Had drenched him with a beverage rare ; — 

His words no faith could gain. 
With Clare alone he credence won, 



canto r. THE COURT. 275 

Who, rather than wed Marmion, 
Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, 
To give our house her livings fair, 
And die a vestal vot'ress there : 
The impulse from the earth was given, 
But bent her to the paths of heaven. 
A purer heart, a lovelier maid, 
Ne'er sheltered her in Whitby's shade, 
No, not since Saxon Edelfled ; 

Only one trace of earthly strain, 
That for her lover's loss 

She cherishes a sorrow vain, 
And murmurs at the cross. — 
And then her heritage ; — it goes 

Along the banks of Tame ; 
Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, 
In meadows rich the heifer lows, 
The falconer, and huntsman, knows 

Its woodlands for the game. 
Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear, 
And I her humble vot'ress here 



276 MARMION. panto v. 

Should do a deadly sin, 
Her temple spoiled before mine eyes, 
If this false Marmion such a prize 

By my consent should win ; 
Yet hath our boisterous Monarch sworn, 
That Clare shall from our house be torn ; 
And grievous cause have I to fear, 
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear. 

xxin. 

" Now, prisoner, helpless, and betrayed 
To evil power, I claim thine aid, 

By every step that thou hast trod 
To holy shrine and grotto dim, 
By every martyr's tortured limb, 
By angel, saint, and seraphim, 

And by the Church of God ! 
For mark : — When Wilton was betrayed, 
And with his squire forged letters laid, 
She was, alas ! that sinful maid, 

By whom the deed was done, — - 



canto v, THE COURT. 277 

O ! shame and horror to be said ! — 

She was a perjured nun : 
No clerk in all the land, like her, 
Traced quaint and varying character. 
Perchance you may a marvel deem, 

That Marmion's paramour, 
(For such vile thing she was,) should scheme 

Her lover's nuptial hour ; 
But o'er him thus she hoped to gain, 
As privy to his honour's stain, 

Illimitable power : 
For this she secretly retained 

Each proof that might the plot reveal, 

Instructions with his hand and seal ; 
And thus Saint Hilda deigned, 

Through sinner's perfidy impure, 

Her house's glory to secure, 
And Clare's immortal weal 



278 MARMION. canto v. 

XXIV. 

" 'Twere long, and needless, here to tell, 
How to my hand these papers fell ; 

With me they must not stay. 
Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true ! 
Who knows what outrage he might do, 

While journeying by the way? — 

blessed Saint, if ere again 

1 venturous leave thy calm domain, 
To travel or by land or main, 

Deep penance may I pay ! — 
Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer : 
I give this packet to thy care, 
For^thee to stop they will not dare ; 

And O ! with cautious speed, 
To Wolsey's hand the papers bring, 
That he may shew them to the King ; 

And, for thy well-earned meed, 
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine 
A weekly mass shall still be thine, 

While priests can sing and read.—- 



canto v. THE COURT. 279 

What aiFst thou?— Speak!"— For as he took 
The charge, a strong emotion shook 

His frame ; and, ere reply, 
They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone, 
Like distant clarion feebly blown, 

That on the breeze did die ; 
And loud the Abbess shrieked in fear, 
" Saint Withold save us ! — What is here ! 

Look at yon City Cross ! 
3ee on its battled tower appear 
Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear, 

And blazoned banners toss ! — 

XXV. 

Dun-Edin's Cross, a piilar'd stone, 
Rose on a turret octagon ; 

(But now is razed that monument, 

Whence royal edict rang, 
And voice of Scotland's law was sent 
In glorious trumpet clang. 



280 MARMION. <:a 

O ! be his tomb as lead to lead, 
Upon its dull destroyer's head ! — 
A minstrel's malison # is said. — ) 
Then on its battlements they saw 
A vision, passing Nature's law, 

Strange, wild, and dimly seen ; 
Figures that seemed to rise and die, 
Gibber and sign, advance and fly, 
While nought confirmed could ear or eye 

Discern of sound or mien. 
Yet darkly did it seem, as there 
Heralds and Pursuivants prepare, 
With trumpet sound, and blazoned fair, 

A summons to proclaim ; 
But indistinct the pageant proud, 
As fancy forms of midnight cloud, 
When flings the moon upon her shroud 

A wavering tinge of flame ; 

$ i. e. Curse. 




canto v. THE COURT. 281 

It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, 
From midmost of the spectre crowd, 
This awful summons came :— 

XXVI. 

" Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, 

Whose names I now shall call, 
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear ! 
Subjects of him who sent me here, 
At his tribunal to appear, 

I summon one and all : 
I cite you by each deadly sin, 
That ere hath soiled your hearts within ; 
I cite you by each brutal lust, 
That ere defiled your earthly dust, — 

By wrath, by pride, by fear, 
By each o'er-mastering passion's tone, 
By the dark grave, and dying groan ! 
When forty days are past and gone, 
I cite you, at your Monarch's throne, 

To answer and appear."— 



2S2 MARMION. canto v. 

Then thundered forth a roll of names : — 
The first was thine, unhappy James ! 

Then all thy nobles came ; 
Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, 
Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,— ■ 
Why should I tell their separate style I 

Each chief of birth and fame, 
Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle, 
Fore-doomed to Flodden's carnage pile, 

Was cited there by name ; 
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Lutterward, and Scriveibay, 
De Wilton, erst of Aberley, 
The self-same thundering voice did say.— 

But then another spoke : 
" Thy fatal summons I deny, 
And thine infernal lord defy, 
Appealing me to Him on High, 

Who burst the sinner's yoke." — 
At that dread accent, with a scream, 
Parted the pageant like a dream, 



canto v. THE COURT. 

The summoner was gone. 
Prone on her face the Abbess fell, 
And fast, and fast, her beads did tell ; 
Her nuns came, startled by the yell, 

And found her there alone. 
She marked not, at the scene aghast, 
What time, or how, the Palmer passed. 

XXVII. 

Shift we the scene. — The camp doth move, 

Dun-Edin's streets are empty now, 
Save when, for weal of those they love, 

To pray the prayer, and vow the vow, 
The tottering child, the anxious fair, 
The grey-haired sire, with pious care, 
To chapels and to shrines repair.—- 
Where is the Palmer now ? and where 
The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare ? — 
Bold Douglas ! to Tantallon fair 
They journey in thy charge : 



284 MARMION. ca* 

Lord Marmion rode on his right hand, 
The Palmer still was with the band ; 
Angus, like Lindesay, did command, 

That none should roam at large. 
But in that Palmer's altered mien 
A wonderous change might now be seen ; 

Freely he spoke of war, 
Of marvels wrought by single hand, 
When lifted for a native land ; 
And still looked high, as if he planned 

Some desperate deed afar. 
His courser would he feed and stroke, 
And, tucking up his sable frocke, 
Would first his metal bold provoke, 

Then sooth or quell his pride. 
Old Hubert said, that never one 
He saw, except Lord Marmion, 

A steed so fairly ride. 



canto v. THE COURT. 2S5 

XXVIII. 

Some half-hour's march behind, there came, 

By Eustace governed fair, 
A troop escorting Hilda's Dame, 

With all her nuns, and Clare. 
No audience had Lord Marmion sought ; 

Ever he feared to aggravate 

Clara de Clare's suspicious hate ; 
And safer 'twas, he thought, 

To wait till, from the nuns removed, 

The influence of kinsmen loved, 

And suit by Henry's self approved, 
Her slow consent had wrought. 

His was no nickering flame, that dies 

Unless when fanned by looks and sighs, 

And lighted oft at lady's eyes ; 

He longed to stretch his wide command 

O'er luckless Clara's ample land : 

Besides, when Wiiton with him vied, 

Although th^ pang of humbled pride 

The place of jealousy supplied, 



3B6 MARMION. canto v. 

Yet conquest, by that meanness won 

He almost loathed to think upon, 

Led him, at times, to hate the cause, 

Which made him burst through honour's laws. 

If e'er he loved, 'twas her alone, 

Who died within that vault of stone. 

XXIX. 

And now, when close at hand they saw 
North Berwick's town, and lofty Law, 
Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while, 
Before a venerable pile, 

Whose turrets viewed, afar, 
The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle, 

The ocean's peace or war. 
At tolling of a bell, forth came 
The convent's venerable Dame, 
And prayed Saint Hilda's Abbess rest 
With her, a loved and honoured guest, 
Till Douglas should a bark prepare, 
To waft her back to Whitby fair. 



canto v. THE COURT. 287 

Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, 
And thanked the Scottish Prioress ; 
And tedious were to tell, I ween, 
The courteous speech that passed between. 
O'erjoyed the nuns their palfreys leave ; 
But when fair Clara did intend, 
Like them, from horse-back to descend, 
Fitz-Eustace said, — " I grieve, 
Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, 
Such gentle company to part : — 

Think not discourtesy, 
But lords' commands must be obeyed 5 
And Marmion and the Douglas said, 

That you must wend with me. 
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, 
Which to the Scottish Earl he shewed., 
Commanding, that, beneath his care, 
Without delay, you shall repair, 
To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare." — 



288 MARMION* c\m 

The startled Abbess loud exclaimed; 
But she, at whom the blow was aimed, 
Grew pale as death, and cold as lead, — 
She deemed she heard her death-doom read. 
" Cheer thee, my child !'* the Abbess said, 
" They dare not tear thee from my hand, 
To ride alone with armed band." — 

" Nay, holy mother, nay," 
Fitz- Eustace said, " the lovely Clare 
Will be in Lady Angus' care, 

In Scotland while we stay ; 
And, when we move, an easy ride 
Will bring us to the English side, 
Female attendance to provide 

Befitting Gloster's heir \ 
Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord, 
By slightest look, or act, or word, 

To harass Lady Clare. 
Her faithful guardian he will be, 
Nor sue for slightest courtesy 

13 



canto r. THE COURT. 289 

That e'en to stranger falls, 
Till he shall place her, safe and free, 

Within her kinsman's halls," — 
He spoke, and blushed with earnest grace; 
His faith was painted on his face, 

And Clare's worst fear relieved. 
The Lady Abbess loud exclaimed 
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, 

Entreated, threatened* grieved ; 
To martyr, saint, and prophet prayed, 
Against Lord Marmion inveighed, 
And called the Prioress to aid, 
To curse with candle, bell, and book, — 
Her head the grave Cistertian shook : 
<c The Douglas, and the King," she said, 
" In their commands will be obeyed ; 
Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall 
The maiden in Tantailon hall." — 



290 MARMION. ca] 

XXXI. 

The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, 

Assumed her wonted state again, — 
For much of state she had, — 

Composed her veil, and raised her head, 

And — " Bid," in solemn voice she said, 
" Thy master, bold and bad, 

The records of his house turn o'er, 
And, when he shall there written see, 
That one of his own ancestry 
Drove the Monks forth of Coventry, 

Bid him his fate explore ! 

Prancing in pride of earthly trust, 
His charger hurled him to the dust, 
And, by a base plebeian thrust, 

He died his band before. 

God judge 'twixt Marmion and me ; 
He is a chief of high degree, 

And I a poor recluse ; 

Yet oft, in holy writ, we see 



canto v. THE COURT. 291 

Even such weak minister as me 
May the oppressor bruise : 

For thus, inspired, did Judith slay 
The mighty in his sin, 

And Jael thus, and Deborah," — 
Here hasty Blount broke in : 
" Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band ; 
St Anton' fire thee ! wilt thou stand 
All day, with bonnet in thy hand, 

To hear the Lady preach ? 
By this good light ! if thus we stay, 
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, 

Will sharper sermon teach. 
Come, d'on thy cap, and mount thy horse ; 
The Dame must patience take perforce." — 

XXXII. 

" Submit we then to force," said Clare ; 
" But let this barbarous lord despair 
His purposed aim to win ; 



&V2 MARMION. ca] 

Let him take living, land, and life ; 
But to be Marmion's wedded wife 

In me were deadly sin : 
And if it be the king's decree, 
That I must find no sanctuary, 
Where even a homicide might come, 

And safely rest his head, 
Though at its open portals stood, 
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood, 

The kinsmen of the dead; 
Yet one asylum is my own, 

Against the dreaded hour ; 
A low, a silent, and a lone, 

Where kings have little power, 
One victim is before me there. — 
Mother, your blessing, and in prayer 
Remember your unhappy Clare !" — 
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows 

Kind blessings many a one; 
Weeping and wailing loud arose, 



anto v. THE COURT. 293 

Round patient Clare,, the clamorous woes 

Of every simple nun. 
His eyes the gentle Eustace dried, 
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide. 

Then took the squire her rein, 
And gently led away her steed, 
And, by each courteous word and deed, 

To cheer her strove in vain. 

XXXIII. 

But scant three miles the band had rode, 
When o'er a height they passed, 

And sudden, close before them showed, 
His towers, Tantallon vast; 

Broad, massive, high, and stretching far, 

And held impregnable in war. 

On a projecting rock they rose, 

And round three sides the ocean flows; 

The fourth did battled walls inclose 
And double mound and fosse. 



294 MARMION. caw 

By narrow draw-bridge, outworks strong, 
Through studded gates, an entrance long, 

To the main court they cross. 
It was a wide and stately square : 
Around were lodgings, fit and fair, 

And towers of various form, 
Which on the court projected far, 
And broke its lines quadrangular. 
Here was square keep, there turret high, 
Or pinnacle that sought the sky, 
Whence oft the Warder could descrjr 

The gathering ocean-storm. 

XXXIV. 

Here did they rest. — The princely care 
Of Douglas, why should I declare, 
Or say they met reception fair , ? 

Or why the tidings say, 
Which, varying, to Tantallon came, 
By hurrying posts, or fleeter fame, 

With every varying day? 



nto v. THE COURT. 295 

And, first, they heard King James had won 

Etall, and Wark, and Ford ; and then, 

That Norham castle strong was ta'en. 
At that sore marvelled Marmion ; — 
And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand 
Would soon subdue Northumberland : 

But whispered news there came, 
That, while his host inactive lay, 
And melted by degrees away, 
King James was dallying off the day 

With Heron's wily dame. — 
Such acts to chronicles I yield ; 

Go seek them there, and see : 
Mine is a tale of Flodden Field, 

And not a history. — 
At length they heard the Scottish host 
On that high ridge had made their post, 

Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain ; 
And that brave Surrey many a band 
Had gathered in the Southern land,, 



296 MARMION. c 

And marched into Northumberland, 

And camp at Wooler ta'en. 
Marmion, like charger in the stall, 
That hears, without, the trumpet-call, 

Began to chafe, and swear : — 
a A sorry thing to hide my head 
In castle, like a fearful maid, 
When such a field is near ! 
Needs must I see this battle-day : 
Death to my fame, if a such a fray 
Were fought, and Marmion away I 
The Douglas, too, I wot not why, 
Hath 'bated of his courtesy : 
No longer in his halls I'll stay." — 
Then bade bis band, they should array 
For march against the dawning day. 

END OF CANTO FIFTH. 






MARMION 



Smrotorrtoit to Canto ®infk 



I 291> ] 



TO 



RICHARD HEBER, Esq. 



Mei^toun- House, Christmas. 
Heap on more wood ! — the wind is chill; 
But let it whistle as it will, 
We'll keep our Christmas merry still. 
Each age has deemed the new-born year 
The fittest time for festal cheer : 
Even heathen yet, the savage Dane 
At Iol more deep the mead did drain ; 
High on the beach his galleys drew, 
And feasted all his pirate crew 
Then in his low and pine-built hall, 
Where shields and axes decked the wall, 



300 INTRODUCTION 

They gorged upon the half-dressed steer; 
Caroused in seas of sable beer ; 
While round, in brutal jest, were thrown 
The half-gnawed rib, and marrow-bone ; 
Or listened all, in grim delight, 
While scalds yelled out the joys of fight. 
Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie, 
While wildly loose their red locks fly, 
And dancing round the blazing pile, 
They make such barbarous mirth the while, 
As best might to the mind recal 
The boisterous joys of Odin's hall. 

And well our Christian sires of old 
Loved when the year its course had rolled, 
And brought blithe Christmas back again, 
With all his hospitable train. 
Domestic and religious rite 
Gave honour to the holy night : 
On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; 
On Christmas eve the mass was sung ; 






TO CANTO SIXTH. SOI 

That only night, in all the year, 
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. 
The damsel donned her kirtle sheen ; 
The hall was, dressed with holly green ; 
Forth to the wood did merry-men go, 
To gather in the misletoe. 
Then opened wide the baron's hall 
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; 
Power laid his rod of rule aside, 
And Ceremony doffed his pride. 
The heir, with roses in his shoes, 
That night might village partner chuse; 
The lord, underogating, share 
The vulgar game of " post and pair." 
All hailed, with uncontrolled delight, 
And general voice, the happy night, 
That to the cottage, as the crown, 
Brought tidings of salvation down. 

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 
Went roaring up the chimney wide ; 



302 INTRODUCTION 

The huge hall- table's oaken face, 
Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace, 
Bore then upon its massive board 
No mark to part the squire and lord. 
Then was brought in the lusty brawn 
By old blue-coated serving-man ; 
Then the grim boar's-head frowned on high, 
Crested with bays and rosemary. 
Well can the green-garbed ranger tell, 
How, when, and where, the monster fell ; 
What dogs before his death he tore, 
And all the baiting of the boar. 
The wassel round, in good brown bowls, 
Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls. 
There the huge sirloin reeked ; hard by 
Plumb-porridge stood, and Christmas pye ; 
Nor failed old Scotland to produce, 
At such high tide, her savoury goose. 
Then came the merry masquers in, 
And carols roared with blithesome din ; 



TO CANTO SIXTH. S03 

If unmelodious was the song, 

It was a hearty note, and strong. 

Who lists may in their mumming see 

Traces of ancient mystery ; 

White shirts supplied the masquerade, 

And smutted cheeks the visors made ; 

But, O ! what masquers, richly dight, 

Can boast of bosoms half so light 1 

England was merry England, when 

Old Christmas brought his sports again. 

Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale ; 

'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale; 

A Christmas gambol oft could cheer 

The poor man's heart through half the year. 

till linger, in our northern clime, 
Some remnants of the good old time; 
And still, within our vallies here, 
We hold the kindred title dear, 
Even when, perchance, its far-fetched claim 
To Southron ear sounds empty name; 



304 INTRODUCTION 

For course of blood, our proverbs deem, 
Is warmer than the mountain-stream. * 
And thus, my Christmas still I hold 
Where my great-grand si re came of old, 
With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 
And reverend apostolic air — 
The feast and holy-tide to share, 
And mix sobriety with wine, 
And honest mirth with thoughts divine : 
Small thought was his, in after time 
E'er to be hitched into a rhyme. 
The simple sire could only boast, 
That he was loyal to his cost ; 
The banished race of kings revered, 
And lost his land, — but kept his beard. 

In these dear halls, where welcome kind 
Is with fair liberty combined ; 

* " Blood is warmer than water," — a proverb meant to 
vindicate our family predilections. 



TO CANTO SIXTH. 505 

Where cordial friendship gives the hand, 
And flies constraint the magic wand 
Of the fair dame that rules the land. 
Little we heed the tempest drear, 
While music, mirth, and social cheer, 
Speed on their wings the passing year. 
And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now, 
When not a leaf is on the bough. 
Tweed loves them well, and turns again, 
As loath to leave the sweet domain ; 
And holds his mirror to her face, 
And clips her with a close embrace : — 
Gladly as he, we seek the dome, 
And as reluctant turn us home. 

How just, that, at this time of glee, 
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee! 
For many a merry hour we've known, 
And heard the chimes of midnight's tone. 
Cease, then, my friend ! a moment cease, 
And leave these classic tomes in peace ! 
u 



306 INTRODUCTION 

Of Roman and of Grecian lore, 
Sure mortal brain can hold no more. 
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say, 
Were <e pretty fellows in their day ;"* 
But time and tide o'er all prevail — 
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale — 
Of wonder and of war — " Profane ! 
What ! leave the lofty Latian strain, 
Her stately prose, her verse's charms, 
To hear the clash of rusty arms ; 
In Fairy Land or Limbo lost, 
To jostle conjuror and ghost, 
Goblin and witch !" — Nay, Heber dear, 
Before you touch my charter, hear ; 
Though Leyden aids, alas ! no more, 
My cause with many-languaged lore, 
This may I say : — in realms of death 
Ulysses meets Alcides' wraith; 

* "Hannibal was a pretty fellow, sir — a very pretty fellow 
in his day." — Old Bachelor. 

11 



TO CANTO SIXTH. 307 

jEneas, upon Thracia's shore, 
The ghost of murdered Poly d ore ; 
For omens, we in Livy cross, 
At every turn, locutus Bos. 
As grave and duly speaks that ox, 
As if he told the price of stocks ; 
Or held, in Rome republican, 
The place of Common-councilman. 

All nations have their omens drear, 
Their legions wild of woe and fear. 
To Cambria look — the peasant see, 
Bethink him of Glendowerdy, 
And shun " the spirit's Blasted Tree." 
The Highlander, whose red claymore 
The battle turned on Maida's shore, 
Will, on a Friday morn, look pale, 
If asked to tell a fairy tale : 
He fears the vengeful Elfin King, 
Who leaves that day his grassy ring ; 



308 INTRODUCTION 

Invisible to human ken, 

He walks among the sons of men. 

Didst e'er, dear Heber, pass along 
Beneath the towers of Franchemont, 
Which, like an eagle's nest in air, 
Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair ? — 
Deep in their vaults, the peasants say, 
A mighty treasure buried lay, 
Amassed through rapine and through wrong 
By the last lord of Franchemont. 
The iron chest is bolted hard, 
A Huntsman sits, its constant guard ; 
Around his neck his horn is hung, 
His hanger in his belt is slung ; 
Before his feet his bloodhounds lie : 
An 'twere not for his gloomy ey£, 
Whose withering glance no heart can brook, 
As true a huntsman doth he look, 
As bugle e'er in brake did sound, 
Or ever hollowed to a hound. 



TO CANTO SIXTH. 309 

To chase the fiend, and win the prize, 

In that same dungeon ever tries 

An aged Necromantic Priest ; 

It is an hundred years at least, 

Since 'twixt them first the strife begun, 

And neither yet has lost or won. 

And oft the Conjuror's words will make 

The stubborn Demon groan and quake ; 

And oft the bands of iron break, 

Or bursts one lock, that still amain, 

Fast as 'tis opened, shuts again, 

That magic strife within the tomb 

May last until the day of doom, 

Unless the Adept shall learn to tell 

The very word that clenched the spell, 

When Franch'mont locked the treasure cell. 

An hundred years are past and gone, 

And scarce three letters has he won. 

Such general superstition may 
Excuse for old Pitscottie say ; 






310 INTRODUCTION 

Whose gossip history has given 
My song the messenger from heaven, 
That warned, in Lithgow, Scotland's King, 
Nor less the infernal summoning ; 
May pass the Monk of Durham's tale, 
Whose Demon fought in Gothic mail ; 
May pardon plead for Fordun grave, 
Who told of Gifford's Goblin-Cave. 
But why such instances to you, 
Who, in an instant, can review 
Your treasured hoards of various lore, 
And furnish twenty thousand more ? 
Hoards, not like their's whose volumes rest 
Like treasures in the Franch'mont chest, 
While gripple owners still refuse 
To others what they cannot use ; 
Give them the priest's whole century, 
They shall not spell you letters three ; 
Their pleasure in the books the same 
The magpie takes in pilfered gem. 



TO CANTO SIXTH. 311 

Thy volumes, open as thy heart, 
Delight, amusement, science, art, 
To every ear and eye impart ; 
Yet who, of all who thus employ them, 
Can, like the owner's self, enjoy them ? — 
But, hark ! I hear the distant drum : 
The day of Flodden field is come. — 
Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health, 
And store of literary wealth. 



MARMION. 



CANTO SIXTH. 



%fy Battfe* 



C 315 ] 



MARMION. 



CANTO SIXTH. 



%%t Battle. 



I. 

While great events were on the gale,, 
And each hour brought a varying tale, 
And the demeanour, changed and cold, 
Of Douglas fretted Marmion bold, 
And, like the impatient steed of war, 
He snuffed the battle from afar ; 
And hopes were none, that back again 
Herald should come from Terouenne, 



316 MARMION. canto vi. 

Where England's King in leaguer lay, 

Before decisive battle-day ; 

While these things were, the mournful Clare 

Did in the Dame's devotions share : 

For the good Countess ceaseless prayed, 

To Heaven and Saints, her sons to aid, 

And, with short interval, did pass 

From prayer to book, from book to mass, 

And all in high Baronial pride, — 

A life both dull and dignified ; — 

Yet as Lord Marmion nothing pressed 

Upon her intervals of rest, 

Dejected Clara well could bear 

The formal state, the lengthened prayer, 

Though dearest to her wounded heart 

The hours that she might spend apart. 

II. 

I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep 
Hung o'er the margin of the deep 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 3 IT 

Many a rude tower and rampart there 

Repelled the insult of the air, 

Which, when the tempest vexed the sky, 

Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. 

Above the rest, a turret square 

Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear, 

Of sculpture rude, a stony shield ; 

The Bloody Heart was in the field, 

And in the chief three mullets stood, 

The cognizance of Douglas blood. 

The turret held a narrow stair, 

Which, mounted, gave you access where 

A parapet's embattled row 

Did seaward round the castle go ; 

Sometimes in dizzy steps descending, 

Sometimes in narrow circuit bending, 

Sometimes in platform broad extending, 

Its varying circle did combine 

Bulwark, and bartisan, and line, 

And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign ; 



318 MARMION. canto v 

Above the booming ocean leant 

The far-projecting battlement ; 

The billows burst, in ceaseless flow, 

Upon the precipice below. 

Where'er Tantallon faced the land, 

Gate-works, and walls, were strongly manned ; 

No need upon the sea-girt side ; 

The steepy rock, and frantic tide, 

Approach of human step denied ; 

And thus these lines, and ramparts rude, 

Were left in deepest solitude. 

III. 

And, for they were so lonely, Clare 
Would to these battlements repair, 
And muse upon her sorrows there, 

And list the sea-bird's cry ; 
Or slow, like noon-tide ghost, would glide 
Along the dark-grey bulwarks' side, 
And ever on the heaving tide 

Look down with weary eye. 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 

Oft did the cliff, and swelling main, 
Recal the thoughts of Whitby's fane, — 
A home she ne'er might see again ; 

For she had laid adown, 
So Douglas bade, the hood and veil, 
And frontlet of the cloister pale, 

And Benedictine guwn : 
It were unseemly sight, he said, 
A novice out of convent shade. — 
Now her bright locks, with sunny glow, 
Again adorned her brow of snow ; 
Her mantle rich, whose borders, round, 
A deep and fretted broidery bound, 
In golden foldings sought the ground ; 
Of holy ornament, alone 
Remained a cross with ruby stone ; 

And often did she look 
On that which in her hand she bore, 
With velvet bound, and broidered o'er, 

Her breviary book. 



3S0 MARMION". canto yi. 

In such a place, so lone, so grim, 
At dawning pale, or twilight dim, 

It fearful would have been, 
To meet a form so richly dressed, 
With book in hand, and cross on breast, 

And such a woeful mien. 
Fitz-Eustace, loitering with his bow, 
To practise on the gull and crow, 
Saw her, at distance, gliding slow, 

And did by Mary swear, — 
Some love-lorn Fay she might have been, 
Or, in romance, some spell-bound queen ; 
For ne'er, in work-day world, was seen 

A form so witching fair. 

IV. 

Once walking thus, at evening tide, 

It chanced a gliding sail she spied, 

And, sighing, thought — ff The Abbess there, 

Perchance, does to her home repair; 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 321 

Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free, 

Walks hand in hand with Charity ; 

Where oft Devotion's tranced glow 

Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow, 

That the enraptured sisters see 

High vision, and deep mystery ; 

The very form of Hilda fair, # 

Hovering upon the sunny air, 

And smiling on her votaries' prayer. 

O ! wherefore, to my duller eye, 

Did still the Saint her form deny ! 

Was it, that, seared by sinful scorn, 

My heart could neither melt nor burn ? 

Or lie my warm affections low, 

With him, that taught them first to glow ? 

Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew> 

To pay thy kindness grateful due, 

And well could brook the mild command, 

That ruled thy simple maiden band. — 

* See Note. 

X 






322 A1ARMION. canto vi. 

How different now ! condemned to bide 

My doom from this dark tyrant's pride. — 

But Marmion has to learn, ere long, 

That constant mind, and hate of wrong, 

Descended to a feeble girl, 

From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl : 

Of such a stem, a sapling weak, 

He ne'er shall bend, although he break. 

V. 
a But see! — what makes this armour here ?" 

For in her path there lay 
Targe, corslet, helm ; — she viewed them near. — 
" The breast-plate pierced ! — Aye, much I fear, 
Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear, 
That hath made fatal entrance here, 

As these dark blood-gouts say. — 

Thus Wilton ! — Oh ! not corslet's ward, 

INot truth, as diamond pure and hard, 

Could be thy manly bosom's guard, 

On yon disastrous day !" — 
8 



<;anto vi. THE BATTLE. 323 

She raised her eyes in mournful mood, — 

Wilton himself before her stood! 

It might have seemed his passing ghost, 

For every youthful grace was lost; 

And joy unwonted, and surprise, 

Gave their strange wildness to his eyes. — 

Expect not, noble dames and lords, 

That I can tell such scene in words : 

W"hat skilful limner ere would chuse 

To paint the rainbow's varying hues, 

Unless to mortal it were given 

To dip his brush in dyes of heaven ? 

Far less can my weak line declare 
Each changing passion's shade ; 

Brightening to rapture from despair, 

Sorrow, surprise, and pity there, 

And joy, with her angelic air, 

And hope, that paints the future fair, 
Their varying hues displayed : 
Each o'er its rival's ground extending, 
Alternate conquering, shifting, blending, 



324: MARMION. «anto \i. 

Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield, 
And mighty Love retains the field. 
Shortly I tell what then he said, 
By many a tender word delayed, 
And modest blush, and bursting sigh, 
And question kind, and fond reply. 

VI. 

Wt mutom !j&fflKpf 

" Forget we that disastrous day, 

When senseless in the lists I lay. 

Thence dragged,— but how I cannot know,. 
For sense and recollection fled, — 

I found me on a pallet low, 

Within my ancient beadsman's shed. 

Austin, — rernember'st thou, my Clare, 
How thou didst blush, when the old man, 
When first our infant love began, 

Said we would make a matchless pair ?— 
Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled 
From the degraded traitor's bed,- — 



^ANTO vi. TOE BATTLE. 325 

He only held my burning head, 
And tended me for many a day, 
While wounds and fever held their sway. 
But far more needful was his care, 
When sense returned to wake despair ; 
For I did tear the closing wound, 
And dash me frantic on the ground, 
If e'er I heard the name of Clare. 
At length, to calmer reason brought, 
Much by his kind attendance wrought, 

With him I left my native strand, 
And, in a palmer's weeds arrayed, 
My hated name and form to shade, 

I journeyed many a land ; 
No more a lord of rank and birth, 
But mingled with the dregs of earth. 
Oft Austin for my reason feared, 

When I would sit, and deeply brood 
On dark revenge, and deeds of blood, 
Or wild mad schemes upreared. 



326 MARMION. canto vi 

My friend at length fell sick, and said, 

God would remove him soon; 
And, while upon his dying bed, 

He begged of me a boon— 
If ere my deadliest enemy 
Beneath my brand should conquered lie, 
Even then my mercy should awake, 
And spare his life for Austin's sake. 

VII. 

u Still restless as a second Cain, 

To Scotland next my route was ta'en. 

Full well the paths I knew ; 
Fame of my fate made various sound, 
That death in pilgrimage I found, 
That I had perished of my wound, — 

None cared which tale was true : 
And living eye could never guess 
De Wilton in his palmer's dress; 

For now that sable slough is shed, 

And trimmed my shaggy beard and head, 



cxsto vi. THE BATTLE. 327 

I scarcely know me in the glass. 

A chance most woncTrous did provide, 

That I should be that Baron's guide — 

I will not name his name ! — 
Vengeance to God alone belongs ; 
But, when I think on all my wrongs, 

My blood is liquid flame ! 
And ne'er the time shall I forget, 
When, in a Scottish hostel set, 

Dark looks we did exchange : 
What were his thoughts I cannot tell ; 
But in my bosom mustered Hell 

Its plans of dark revenge. 

VIII. 

" A word of vulgar augury, 

That broke from me, I scarce knew why, 

Brought on a village tale ; 
Which wrought upon his moody sprite, 
And sent him armed forth by night. 

I borrowed steed and mail, 



328 MARMION. canto v?. 

And weapons, from his sleeping band ; 

And, passing from a postern door, 
We met, and 'countered, hand to hand,— 

He fell on Gifford-moor. 
For the death-stroke my brand I drew, 
(O then my helmed head he knew, 

The palmer's cowl was gone,) 
Then had three inches of my blade 
The heavy debt of vengeance paid, — 
My hand the thought of Austin staid ; 

I left him there alone.: — 
O, good old man ! even from the grave. 
Thy spirit could thy master save : 
If I had slain my foeman, ne'er 
Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear, 
Given to my hand this packet dear, 
Of power to clear my injured fame, 
And vindicate De Wilton's name. — 
Perchance you heard the Abbess tell 
Of the strange pageantry of Hel], 
13 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 329 

That broke our secret speech- 
It rose from the infernal shade, 
Or featly was some juggle played, 

A tale of peace to teach. 
Appeal to Heaven I judged was best, 
When my name came among the rest. 

IX. 

" Now here, within Tantallon Hold, 
To Douglas late my tale I told, 
To whom my house was known of old. 
Won by my proofs, his faulchion bright 
This eve anew shall dub me knight. 
These were the arms that once did turn 
The tide of fight on Otterburne, 
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield, 
When the Dead Douglas won the field. 
These Angus gave — his armourer's care, 
Ere morn, shall every breach repair ; 
For nought, he said, was in his halls, 



330 M ARM ION. canto vi. 

But ancient armour on the walls, 

And aged chargers in the stalls, 

And women, priests, and grey-haired men ; 

The rest were all in Twisel glen. * 

And now I watch my armour here, 

By law of arms, till midnight's near ; 

Then, once again a belted knight, 

Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light. 

i X. 

" There soon again we meet, my Clare ! 
This Baron means to guide thee there : 
Douglas reveres his king's command, 
Else would he take thee from his band. 
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too, 
Will give De Wilton justice due. 
Now meeter far for martial broil, 
Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil, 

Once more" " O, Wilton ! must we then 

Risk new-found happiness again, 
* Where James encamped before taking post on Flodden. 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 331 

Trust fate of arms once more ? 
And is there not a humble glen, 

Where we, content and poor, 
Might build a cottage in the shade, 
A shepherd thou, and I to aid 

Thy task on dale and moor ? — 
That reddening brow ! — too well I know. 
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow 

While falsehood stains thy name : 
Go then to fight ! Clare bids thee go ! 
Clare can a warrior's feelings know, 

And weep a warrior's shame ; 
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel, 
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel, 
And belt thee with thy brand of steel, 

And send thee forth to fame !" — 

XL 

That night, upon the rocks and bay, 
The midnight moon-beam slumbering lay, 



332 MARMION. canto vi. 

And poured its silver light/ and pure, 
Through loop-hole, and through embrazure, 

Upon Tantallon lower and hall; 
But chief where arched windows wide 
Illuminate the chapel's pride, 

The sober glances fall. 
Much was there need ; though, seamed with scars, 
Two veterans of the Douglas' wars, 

Though two grey priests were there, 
And each a blazing torch held high, 
You could not by their blaze descry 

The chapel's carving fair. 
Amid that dim and smoky light, 
Chequering the silvery moon-shine bright, 

A Bishop by the altar stood, 

A noble lord of Douglas blood, 
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white. 

Yet shewed his meek and thoughtful eye 

But little pride of prelacy ; 

More pleased that, in a barbarous age, 

He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page. 






canto vi. THE BATTLE. 333 

Than that beneath his rule he held 
The bishopric of fair Dunkeld. 
Beside him ancient Angus stood, 
Doffed his furred gown, and sable hood : 
O'er his huge form, and visage pale, 
He wore a cap and shirt of mail ; 
And leaned his large and wrinkled hand 
Upon the huge and sweeping brand, 
Which wont, of yore, in battle fray, 
His foeman's limbs to shred away, 
As wood-knife lops the sapling spray. 
He seemed as, from the tombs around 

Rising at judgment-day, 
Some giant Douglas may be found 

In all his old array ; 
So pale his face, so huge his limb, 
So old his arms, his look so grim. 

XIL 

Then at the altar Wilton kneels, 

And Clare the spurs bound on his heels ; 



534 MARMION. uanxo 

And think what next he must have felt, 
At buckling of the faulchion belt ! 

And judge how Clara changed her hue, 
While fastening to her lover's side 
A friend, which, though in danger tried, 

He once had found untrue ! 
Then Douglas struck him with his blade : 
" Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid, 

I dub thee knight. 
Arise Sir Ralph, De Wilton's heir ! 
For king, for church, for lady fair, 

See that thou fight." — 
And Bishop Gawain, as he rose, 
Said, — " Wilton ! grieve not for thy woes, 

Disgrace, and trouble ; 
For He, who honour best bestows, 

May give thee double."— 
De Wilton sobbed, for sob he must — 
<( Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust 

That Douglas is my brother !" — 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 33a 

" Nay, nay/' old Angus said, " not so ; 
To Surrey's camp thou now must go, 

Thy wrongs no longer smother. 
I have two sons in yonder field ; 
And, if thou meet'st them under shield, 
Upon them bravely — do thy worst ; 
And foul fall him that blenches first !" — 

XIII. 

Not far advanced was morning day, 
When Marmion did his troop array 

To Surrey's camp to ride ; 
He had safe conduct for his band, 
Beneath the royal seal and hand, 

And Douglas gave a guide : 
The ancient Earl, with stately grace, 
Would Clara on her palfrey place, 
And whispered, in an under tone, 
" Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." 
The train from out the castle drew ; 
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : — 



336 MARMION. canto vi. 

" Though something I might plain," he said, 
" Of cold respect to stranger guest; 
Sent hither by your king's behest, 

While in Tantallon's towers I staid ; 

Part we in friendship from your land, 

And, noble Earl, receive my hand." — 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak, 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — 

" My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still 

Be open, at my sovereign's will, 

To each one whom he lists, howe'ejr 

Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 

My castles are my king's alone, 

From turret to foundation-stone — 

The hand of Douglas is his own ; 

And never shall in friendly grasp 

The hand of such as Marmion clasp." — 

XIV. 

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
And shook his very frame for ire, 



CANTO VI. 



THE BATTLE. 



337 



And— " This to Hie !" he said, — 
An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, 
Such hand as Marm ion's had not spared 

To cleave the Douglas* head ! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, 
He, who does England's message here, 
Although the meanest in her state, 
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : 
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 

Even in thy pitch of pride, 
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 
(Nay, never look upon your lord, 
And lay your hands upon your sword,) 

I tell thee, thou'rt defied! 
And if thou said'st, I am not peer 
To any lord in Scotland here, 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, 

Lord Angus, thou hast lied !" — 
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 
O'ercame the ashen hue of age : 

Y 



338 MARMION. canto vi. 

Fierce he broke forth : — " And dar'st thou then 
To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his hall? 
And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go ?-— 
No, by Saint Bryde of Bothwell, no ! — 
Up drawbridge, grooms — what, Warder, ho ! 

Let the portcullis fall." — 
Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need ! 
And dashed the rowels in his steed, 
Like arrow through the arch-way sprung, 
The ponderous grate behind him rung : 
To pass there was such scanty room, 
The bars, descending, razed his plume. 

XV. 

The steed along the drawbridge flies, 

Just as it trembled on the rise ; 

Not lighter does the swallow skim 

Along the smooth lake's level brim : 

And when Lord Marmion reached his band, 






CANTO VI. 



THE BATTLE. 339 



He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 

And shout of loud defiance pours, 

And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

" Horse ! horse !" the Douglas cried, " and chase !" 

But soon he reined his fury's pace : 

" A royal messenger he came, 

Though most unworthy of the name. — 

A letter forged ! Saint Jude to speed ! 

Did ever knight so foul a deed ! 

At first in heart it liked me ill, 

When the King praised his clerkly skill. 

Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, 

Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line : 

So swore I, and I swear it still, 

Let my boy-bishop fret his fill- — 

Saint Mary mend my fiery mood ! 

Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, 

I thought to slay him where he stood. 

Tis pity of him too," he cried ; 

" Bold can he speak, and fairly ride : 

I warrant him a warrior tried." — 



340 MARMION. canto vi. 

With this his mandate he recals, 
And slowly seeks his castle halls. 

XVI. 

The day in Marmion's journey wore; 
Yet, e'er his passion's gust was o'er, 
They crossed the heights of Stanrig-moor. 
His troop more closely there he scann'd, 
And missed the Palmer from the band. — 
" Palmer or not/' young Blount did say, 
c< He parted at the peep of day ; 
Good sooth, it was in strange array." — 
" In what array ?" said Marmion, quick. 
< e My lord, I ill can spell the trick ; 
But all night long, with clink and bang, 
Close to my couch did hammers clang ; 
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang, 
And from a loop-hole while I peep, 
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep, 
Wrapped in a gown of sables fair, 
As fearful of the morning air ; 



UANTO V! 



THE BATTLE. 341 



Beneath, when that was blown aside, 

A rusty shirt of mail I spied, 

By Archibald won in bloody work, 

Against the Saracen and Turk : 

Last night it hung not in the hall ; 

I thought some marvel would befal. 

And next I saw them saddled lead 

Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed ; 

A matchless horse, though something old, 

Prompt to his paces, cool and bold. 

I heard the Sheriff Sholto say, 

The Earl did much the Master # pray 

To use him on the battle day ; 

But he preferred" — <c Nay, Henry, cease I 

Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace. 

Eustace, thou bear'st a brain — I pray, 

What did Blount see at break of day ?" — 

XVIL 

" In brief, my lord, we both descried 
(For I then stood by Henry's side) 

* His eldest son, the Master of Angus. 



342 MARMION. 



CANTO YI* 



The Palmer mount., and outwards ride, 

Upon the Earl's own favourite steed ; 
All sheathed he was in armour bright, 
And much resembled that same knight, 
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight : 

Lord Angus wished him speed." — 
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke, 
A sudden light on Marmion broke ;— 
" Ah ! dastard fool, to reason lost !" 
He muttered " 'Twas nor fay nor ghost, 
I met upon the moonlight wold, 
But living man of earthly mould. — ■ 

O dotage blind and gross ! 
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust 
Had laid De Wilton in the dust, 

My path no more to cross.— 
How stand we now ? — he told his tale 
To Douglas ; and with some avail ; 

Twas therefore gloomed his rugged brow. — 
Will Surrey dare to entertain, 
'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain ? 

Small risk of that, I trow.— 



CANTO VI. 



THE BATTLE. 



343 



Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun ; 
Must separate Constance from the Nun — 

what a tangled web we weave, 
When first we practice to deceive !— 
A Palmer too ! — no wonder why 

1 felt rebuked beneath his eye : 

I might have known there was but one, 
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion. ,, — 



XVIII. 

Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed 
His troop, and reached, at eve, the Tweed, 
Where Lennel's convent closed their march. 
(There now is left but one frail arch, 

Yet mourn thou not its cells ; 
Our tune a fair exchange has made ; 
Hard by, in hospitable shade, 

A reverend pilgrim dwells, 
Well worth the whole Bernardine brood, 
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.) 

2 



344 MARMION. 



CANTO VI. 



Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there 
Give Marmion entertainment fair, 
And lodging for his train and Clare. 
Next morn the Baron climbed the tower, 
To view afar the Scottish power, 

Encamped on Flodden edge : 
The white pavilions made a show, 
Like remnants of the winter snow, 

Along the dusky ridge. 
Long Marmion looked : — at length his eye 
Unusual movement might descry 

Amid the shifting lines : 
The Scottish host drawn out appears, 
For, flashing on the hedge of spears, 

The eastern sun-beam shines. 
Their front now deepening, now extending; 
Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, 
Now drawing back, and now descending, 
The skilful Marmion well could know, 
They watched the motions of some foe, 
Who traversed on the plain below. 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 345 

XIX. 

Even so it was ;-— from FJodden ridge 
The Scots beheld the English host 
Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post, 
And heedful watched them as they crossed 
The Till by Twisel Bridge. 

High sight it is, and haughty, while 
They dive into the deep defile ; 
Beneath the caverned cliff they fal3 > 
Beneath the castle's airy wall. 

By rock, by oak, by hawthorn tree, 
Troop after troop are disappearing ; 
Troop after troop their banners rearing, 

Upon the eastern bank you see. 
Still pouring down the rocky den, 

Where flows the sullen Till, 
And rising from the dim-wood glen, 
Standards on standards, men on men, 

In slow succession still, 
And sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, 
And pressing on, in ceaseless march,, 



346 MARMION. canto vj 

To gain the opposing hill. 
That morn, to many a trumpet-clang, 
Twisel ! thy rock's deep echo rang ; 
And many a chief of birth and rank, 
St Helen ! at thy fountain drank. 
Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see 
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly, 
Had then from many an axe its doom, 
To give the marching columns room. 

XX. 

And why stands Scotland idly now, 
Dark Flodden ! on thy airy brow, 
Since England gains the pass the while, 
And struggles through the deep defile ? 
What checks the fiery soul of James ? 
Why sits that champion of the dames 

Inactive on his steed, 
And sees, between him and his land, 
Between him and Tweed's southern strand, 

His host Lord Surrey lead ? 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 347 

What vails the vain knight-errant's brand ? — 
O, Douglas, for thy leading wand ! 
Fierce Randolph, for thy speed ! 
O for one hour of Wallace wight, 
Or well-skilled Bruce, to rule the fight, 
And cry — " Saint Andrew and our right 1" 
Another sight had seen that morn, 
From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, 
And Flodden had been Bannock-bourne ! — 
The precious hour has passed in vain, 
And England's host has gained the plain ; 
Wheeling their march, and circling still, 
Around the base of Flodden-hilL 

XXI. 

Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye, 
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high, — 

" Hark J hark ! my lord, an English drum ! 

And see ascending squadrons come 
Between Tweed's river and the hill, 



348 MARMION. canto yi. 

Foot, horse, and cannon : — hap what hap, 
My basnet to a prentice cap, 

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till !— 
Yet more ! yet more ! — how fair arrayed 
They file from out the hawthorn shade, 

And sweep so gallant by ! 
With all their banners bravely spread, 

And all their armour flashing high, 
Saint George might waken from the dead, 

To see fair England's standards fly." — 
ic Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount ; " thou'dstbest, 
And listen to our lord's behest." — 
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said, — 
(< This instant be our band arrayed ; 
The river must be quickly crossed, 
That we may join Lord Surreys host. 
If fight King James, — as well I trust, 
That fight he will, and fight he must, — 
The Lady Clare behind our lines 
Shall tarry, while the battle joins."— 






canto vi. THE BATTLE. 349 

XXII. 

Himself he swift on horseback threw, 
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu ; 
Far less would listen to his prayer, 
To leave behind the helpless Clare. 
Down to the Tweed his band he drew, 
And muttered as the flood they view, 
" The pheasant in the falcon's claw, 
He scarce will yield to please a daw : 
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe, 
So Clare shall bide w r ith me/' 
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep, 
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep, 

He ventured desperately : 
And not a moment will he bide, 
Till squire, or groom, before him ride ; 
Headmost of all he stems the tide, 

Aud stems it gallantly. 
Eustace held Clare upon her horse, 
Old Hubert led her rein, 

11 






3S0 MARMION. canto vi. 

Stoutly they braved the current's course, 
And though far downward driven per force, 

The southern bank they gain ; 
Behind them, straggling, came to shore, 

As best they might, the train : 
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore, 

A caution not in vain ; 
Deep need that day that every string, 
By wet unharmed, should sharply ring. 
A moment then Lord Marmion staid, 
And breathed his steed, his men arrayed, 

Then forward moved his band, 
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won, 
He halted by a cross of stone, 
That, on a hillock standing lone, 

Did all the field command. 

XXIII. 

Hence might they see the full array 
Of either host, for deadly fray ; 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 351 

Their marshalled lines stretched east and west, 

And fronted north and south, 
And distant salutation past 

From the loud cannon mouth ; 
Not in the close successive rattle, 
That breathes the voice of modern battle, 

But slow and far between. — 
The hillock gained, Lord Marmion stayed : 
" Here, by this cross," he gently said, 

" You well may view the scene ; 
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare : 
O ! think of Marmion in thy prayer ! — 
Thou wilt not ? — well, — no less my care 
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.-^- 
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard, 

With ten picked archers of my train ; 
With England if the day go hard, 

To Berwick speed amain. — 
But, if we conquer, cruel maid ! 
My spoils shall at your feet be laid, 

When here we meet again."— 



352 MARMION. canto yi. 

He waited not for answer there, 

And would not mark the maid's despair, 

Nor heed the discontented look 
From either squire ; but spurred amain, 
And, dashing through the battle-plain, 

His way to Surrey took. 

.XXIV. 
u The good Lord Marmion, by ray life ! 

Welcome to danger's hour ! — 
Short greeting serves in time of strife: — 

Thus have I ranged my power : 
Myself will rule this central host, 

Stout Stanley fronts their right, 
My sons command the vaward post, 

With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight ; 

Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, 

Shall be in rear-ward of the fight, 
And succour those that need it most. 

Now, gallant Marmion, well I know, 

Would gladly to the vanguard go ; 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 35 J 

Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstal there, 
With thee their charge will blithely share ; 
There fight thine own retainers too, 
Beneath De Burg, thy steward true." — 
" Thanks, noble Surrey !" Marmion said, 
Nor further greeting there he paid ; 
But, parting like a thunder-bolt, 
First in the vanguard made a halt, 

Where such a shout there rose 
Of " Marmion ! Marmion !" that the cry 
Up Flodden mountain shrilling high, 

Startled the Scottish foes, 

XXV. 
Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still 
With Lady Clare upon the hill ; 
On which, (for far the day was spent,) 
The western sun-beams now were bent. 
The cry they heard, its meaning knew, 

Could plain their distant comrades view : 
z 



354 MARMION. canto vi. 

Sadly to Blount did Eustace say, 
<e Unworthy office here to stay ! 
No hope of gilded spurs to-day. — 
But, see ! look up — on Flodden bent, 
The Scottish foe has fired his tent." — 

And sudden, as he spoke, 
From the sharp ridges of the hill, 
All downward to the banks of Till, 

Was wreathed in sable smoke. 
Volumed and vast, and rolling far, 
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war, 

As down the hill they broke ; 
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, 
Announced their march ; their tread alone, 
At times one warning trumpet blown. 

At times a stifled hum, 
Told England, from his mountain-throne 

King James did rushing come. — 
Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, 
Until at weapon-point they close. — 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 355 

They close, in clouds of smoke and dust, 
With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ; 

And such a yell was there, 
Of sudden and portentous birth, 
As if men fought upon the earth, 

And fiends in upper air ; 
O life and death were in the shout, 
Recoil and rally, charge and rout, 

And triumph and despair. 
Long looked the anxious squires ; their eye 
Could in the darkness nought descry. 

XXVI. 

At length the freshening western blast 
Aside the shroud of battle cast ; 
And, first, the ridge of mingled spears 
Above the brightening cloud appears ; 
And in the smoke the pennons flew, 
As in the storm the white sea-mew. 



?56 MARMION. canto vi. 

Then marked they, dashing broad and far, 
The broken billows of the war, 
And plumed crests of chieftains brave, 
Floating like foam upon the wave ; 

But nought distinct they see : 
Wide raged the battle on the plain ; 
Spears shook, and faulchions flashed amain ; 
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ; 
Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again, 

Wild and disorderly. 
Amid the scene of tumult, high 
They saw lord M arm ion's falcon fly : 
And stainless Tunstall's banner white, 
And Edmund Howard's lion bright, 
Still bear them bravely in the fight; 

Although against them come, 
Of gallant Gordons many a one, 
And many a stubborn Highlandman, 
r A.nd many a rugged Border clan, 

With Huntley, and with Home. 






canto vi. THE BATTLE. 357 

XXVII. 

Far on the left, unseen the while, 
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle; 
Though there the western mountaineer 
Rushed with bare bosom on the spear, 
And flung the feeble targe aside, 
And with both hands the broad-sword plied : 
'Twas vain : — But Fortune, on the right, 
With fickle smile, cheered Scotland's fight. 
Then fell that spotless banner white, 

The Howard's lion fell ; 
Yet still Lord Marrnion's falcon flew 
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew 

Around the battle yell. 
The Border slogan rent the sky ! 
A Home ! a Gordon ! was the cry ; 
Loud were the clanging blows ; 
Advanced,, — forced back, — now low, now high^ 

The pennon sunk and rose ; 
As bends the bark's mast in the gale, 
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail^ 



353 MARMION. canto vi. 

It wavered mid the foes. 
No longer Blount the view could bear :— 
" By heaven, and all its saints/ 1 swear, 

I will not see it lost ! 
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare 
May bid your beads, and patter prayer, — 

I gallop to the host." 
And to the fray he rode amain, 
Followed by all the archer train. 
The fiery youth, with desperate charge, 
Made, for a space, an opening large, — 

The rescued banner rose, — 
But darkly closed the war around, 
Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground, 

It sunk among the foes. 
Then Eustace mounted too ; — yet staid, 
As loth to leave the helpless maid, 

When, fast as shaft can fly, 
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread, 
The loose rein dangling from his head, 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. S59 

Housing and saddle bloody red, 
Lord Marmion's steed rushed by ; 

And Eustace, maddening at the sight, 
A look and sign to Clara cast, 
To mark he would return in haste, 

Then plunged into the fight. 

XXVIII. 

Ask me not what the maiden feels, 
Left in that dreadful hour alone : 

Perchance her reason stoops, or reels ; 
Perchance a courage, not her own, 
Braces her mind to desperate tone. — 

The scattered van of England wheels ; — 
She only said, as loud in air 
The tumult roared, " Is Wilton there ?*— 
They fly, or, maddened by despair, 
Fight but to die.— " Is Wilton there .?"— 

With that, straight up the hill there rode 
Two horsemen drenched with gore, 

And in their arras, a helpless load, 



360 MARMION. canto vi. 

A wounded knight they bore. 
His hand still strained the broken brand ; 
His arms were smeared with blood and sand : 
Dragged from among the horses feet, 
With dinted shield, and helmet beat, 
The falcon-crest and plumage gone, 
Can that be haughty Marmion ! . . 
Young Blount his armour did unlace, 
And, gazing on his ghastly face, 

Said — ci By Saint George, he's gone ! 
That spear-wound has our master sped, 
And see the deep cut on his head ! 

Good night to Marmion." — 
" Unnurtured Blount ! thy brawling cease : 
He opes his eyes," said Eustace; " peace \" — 

XXIX. 

When, doffed his casque, he felt free air, 
Around gan Marmion wildly stare : — 
t( Where's Harry Blount ? Fitz-Eustace where \ 
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 361 

Redeem my pennon, — charge again ! 
Cry — ( Marmion to the rescue !' — Vain ! 
Last of my race, on battle-plain 
That shout shall ne'er be heard again ! — 
Yet my last thought is England's : — fly, 
To Dacre bear my signet-ring ; 
Tell him his squadrons up to bring : — 
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie ; 
Tunstall lies dead upon the field, 
His life-blood stains the spotless shield : 
Edmund is down ; — my life is reft ; — • 
The Admiral alone is left. 
Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,- — 
With Chester charge, and Lancashire, 
Full upon Scotland's central host, 
Or victory and England's lost. — ■ 
Must I bid twice ?— hence, varlets! fly ! 
Leave Marmion here alone — to die."— 
They parted, and alone he lay ; 
Clare drew her from the sight away, 



362 MARMION. canto 

Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, 
And half he murmured, — " Is there none, 

Of all my halls have nurst, 
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring 
Of blessed water from the spring, 

To slake my dying thirst !" — 

XXX. 

O, woman ! in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou !— 
Scarce were the piteous accents said, 
When, with the Baron's casque, the maid 

To the nigh streamlet ran : 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears ; 
The plaintive voice alone she hears, 

Sees but the dying man. 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 363 

She stooped her by the runnel's side, 

But in abhorrence backward drew ; 
For, oozing from the mountain's side, 
Where raged the war, a dark red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn ! — behold her mark 

A little fountain cell, 
Where water, clear as diamond-spark, 

In a stone bason fell. 
Above, some half-worn letters say, 
23rin&* toearg* pilgrim, tiriniu anfc* prag* 
jfor* tije* &imu 00m* of* ©p&if* <8uv* 

ftaaijo* built* tfH0* worn antu toeu% 
She filled the helm, and back she hied, 
And with surprise and joy espied 

A Monk supporting Marmion's head ; 
A pious man, whom duty brought 
To dubious verge of battle fought, 

To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. 



364 MARMION. canto vi. 

XXXI. 

Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, 
And, as she stooped his brow to lave — 
" Is it the hand of Clare," he said, 
" Or injured Constance, bathes my head !" 

Then, as remembrance rose, — 
" Speak not to me of shrift or prayer ! 

I must redress her woes. 
Short space, few words, are mine to spare ; 
Forgive and listen, gentle Clare !" — 

" Alas!" she said, " the while, — 
O think of your immortal weal ! 
In vain for Constance is your zeal ; 

She died at Holy Isle." 

Lord Marmion started from the ground, 
As light as if he felt no wound ; 
Though in the action burst the tide, 
In torrents, from his wounded side. 
" Then it was truth !" — he said — " I knew 
That the dark presage must be true. — 



CANTO VI. 



THE BATTLE. 



365 



I would the Fiend, lo whom belongs 
The vengeance due to all her wrongs, 

Would spare me but a day! 
For wasting fire, and dying groan, 
And priests slain on the altar stone, 
Might bribe him for delay. 
It may not be ! — this dizzy trance — - 
Curse on yon base marauder's lance^ 
And doubly cursed my failing brand ! 
A sinful heart makes feeble hand." — 
Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk, 
Supported by the trembling Monk. 



XXXII. 

With fruitless labour, Clara bound, 

And strove to staunch, the gushing wound 

The Monk, with unavailing cares, 

Exhausted all the Church's prayers. 

Ever, he said, that, close and near, 

A lady's voice was in his ear, 

And that the priest he could not hear, 



266 MARMION. canto vi. 

For that she ever sung, 
" In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles wars rattle with groans of the dying f 

So the notes rung ; — 
" Avoid thee, Fiend ! — with cruel hand, 
Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! — 
O look, my son, upon yon sign 
Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; 

O think on faith and bliss !— 
By many a death-bed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen, 

But never aught like this." — 
The war, that for a space did fail, 
Now trebly thundering swelled the gale, 

And — Stanley ! was the cry; — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread. 

And fired his glazing eye : 
With dying hand, above his head 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted " Victory ! — 
" Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on P . . . 
Were the last words pf Marmion. 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 367 

XXXIII. 

By this, though deep the evening fell, 
Still rose the battle's deadly swell, 
For still the Scots, around their king, 
Unbroken, fought in desperate ring. 
Where's now their victor vaward wing, 

Where Huntley, and where Home ? — 
O for a blast of that dread horn, 
On Fontarabian echoes borne, 

That to King Charles did come, 
When Rowland brave, and Olivier, 
And every paladin and peer, 

On Roncesvalles died ! 
Such blast might warn them, not in vain, 
To quit the plunder of the slain, 
And turn the doubtful day again, 

While yet on Flodden side, 
Afar, the Royal Standard flies, 
And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies, 

Our Caledonian pride ! 
In vain the wish — for far away, 
While spoil and havoc mark their way, 



386 MARMION. «anto vi. 

Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray. — 
" O, Lady," cried the Monk, " away !"■— 

And placed her on her steed ; 
And led her to the chapel fair, 

Of Tilrnouth upon Tweed. 
There all the night they spent in prayer, 
And, at the dawn of morning, there 
She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare. 

XXXIV. 

But as they left the dark'ning heath, 

More desperate grew the strife of death. 

The English shafts in vollies hailed, 

In headlong charge their horse assailed $ 

Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep, 

To break the Scottish circle deep, 

That fought around their king. 

But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, 

Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, 

Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, 

Unbroken was the ring ; 
13 






canto vi. THE BATTLE. 361 

The stubborn spear-men still made good 

Their dark impenetrable wood, 

Each stepping where his comrade stood, 

The instant that he fell. 
No thought was there of dastard flight ; — 
Linked in the serried phalanx tight, 
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, 

As fearlessly and well ; 
Till utter darkness closed her wing 
O'er their thin host and wounded king. 
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands 
Led back from strife his shattered bands ; 

And from the charge they drew, 
As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, 

Sweep back to ocean blue. 
Then did their loss his foemen know ; 
Their king, their lords, their mightiest, low, 
They melted from the field as snow, 
When streams are swollen and south winds blow, 

Dissolves in silent dew. 
2 a 



3T0 MARMION. canto vi. 

Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash. 

While many a broken band, 
Disordered, through her currents dash, 

To gain the Scottish land ; 
To town and tower, to down and dale, 
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, 
And raise the universal wail. 
Tradition, legend, tune, and song, 
Shall many an age that wail prolong : 
Still from the sire the son shall hear 
Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, 

Of Flodden's fatal field, 
Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear. 

And broken was her shield ! 

XXXV. 

Day dawns upon the mountain's side : — 
There, Scotland ! lay thy bravest pride, 
Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many a one ; 
The sad survivors all are gone* — 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 371 

View not that corpse mistrustfully, 
Defaced and mangled though it be ; 
Nor to yon Border castle high 
Look northward with upbraiding eye ; 

Nor cherish hope in vain, 
That, journeying far on foreign strand, 
The Royal Pilgrim to his land 

May yet return again. 
He saw the wreck his rashness wrought ; 
Reckless of life, he desperate fought, 

And fell on Flodden plain : 
And well in death his trusty brand, 
Firm clenched within his manly hand, 

Beseemed the monarch slain. 
But, O ! how changed since yon blithe night ! — 
Gladly I turn me from the sight, 

Unto my tale again. 

XXXVI. 

Short is my tale : — Fitz- Eustace' care 
A pierced and mangled body bare 



372 MARMION. canto vi. 

To moated Lichfield's lofty pile ; 

And there, beneath the southern aisle, 

A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair, 

Did long Lord Marmion's image bear. 

(Now vainly for its scite you look ; 

Twas levelled, when fanatic Brook 

The fair cathedral stormed and took ; 

But, thanks to heaven, and good Saint Chad, 

A guerdon meet the spoiler had !) 

There erst was martial Marmion found, 

His feet upon a couchant hound, 

His hands to heaven upraised ; 
And all around, on scutcheon rich, 
And tablet carved, and fretted niche, 

His arms and feats were blazed. 
And yet, though all was carved so fair, 
And priests for Marmion breathed the prayer, 
The last Lord Marmion lay not there. 
From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain 
Followed his lord to Flodden plain, — 




«anto vi. THE BATTLE. 373 

One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay 
In Scotland mourns as ce wede away :" 
Sore wounded, Sybil's Cross he spied, 
And dragged him to its foot, and died, 
Close by the noble Marmion's side. 
The spoilers stripped and gashed the slain, 
And thus their corpses were mista'en ; 
And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb, 
The lowly woodsman took the room, 

XXXVII. 

Less easy task it were, to shew 
Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and low. 
They dug his grave e'en where he lay, 

But every mark is gone ; 
Time's wasting hand has done away 
The simple Cross of Sybil Grey, 
And broke her font of stone : 
But yet from out the little hill 
Oozes the slender springlet still. 






324 MARMION. canto vi. 

Oft halts the stranger there, 
For thence may best his curious eye 
The memorable field descry ; 

And shepherd boys repair 
To seek the water flag and rush, 
And rest them by the hazel bush, 

And plait their garlands fair ; 
Nor dream they sit upon the grave, 
That holds the bones of Marmion brave. — 

When thou shalt find the little hill, 

With thy heart commune, and be still. 

If ever, in temptation strong, 

Thou left'st the right path for the wrong ; 

If every devious step, thus trode, 

Still led thee further from the road ; 

Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom, 

On noble Marmion's lowly tomb ; 

But say, " He died a gallant knight, 

With sword in hand, for England's right." 



canto VI. THE BATTLE. 3,75 

XXXVIII. 

I do not rhyme to that dull elf, 

Who cannot image to himself, 

That all through Flodden's dismal night, 

Wilton was foremost in the fight ; 

That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain, 

'Twas Wilton mounted him again ; 

'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hewed, 

Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood : 

Unuamed by Hollinshed or Hall, 

He was the living soul of all ; 

That, after fight, his faith made plain, 

He won his rank and lands again ; 

And charged his old paternal shield 

With bearings won on Flodden Field. — 

Nor sing I to that simple maid, 

To whom it must in terms be said, 

That king and kinsmen did agree, 

To bless fair Clara's constancy ; 

Who cannot, unless I relate, 

Paint to her mind the bridal's state ; 



376 MARMION. canto vi. 

That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke, 
More, Sands, and Denny, passed the joke: 
That bluff King Hal the curtain drew, 
And Catherine's hand the stocking threw ; 
And afterwards, for many a day, 
- That it was held enough to say, 
In blessing to a wedded pair, 
" Love they like Wilton and like Clare !" — 



TO THE READER. 

Why then a final note prolong, 
Or lengthen out a closing song, 
Unless to bid the gentles speed, 
Who long have listed to my rede ? # — 
To Statesman grave, if such may deign 
To read the Minstrel's idle strain, 

* Used generally for tale, or discourse. 
2 



canto vi. THE BATTLE. 377 

Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit, 

And patriotic heart — as Pitt ! 

A garland for the hero's crest, 

And twined by her he loves the best ; 

To every lovely lady bright, 

What can I wish but faithful knight ? 

To every faithful lover too, 

What can I wish but lady true ? 

And knowledge to the studious sage ; 

And pillow soft to head of age. 

To thee, dear schoolboy, whom my lay 

Has cheated of thy hour of play, 

Light task, and merry holiday ! 

To all, to each, a fair good night, 

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light. 



ENJ> OF MARMlOKo 






NOTES, 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 



Note I. 

As when the Champion of the Lake 

Enters Morgana 's fated house, 

Or in the Chapel Perilous, 

Despising spells and demons' force. 

Holds converse with the unburied corse. — P. 17. 
The Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of 
abridgment of the most celebrated adventures of the Round 
Table ; and, being written in comparatively modern language, 
gives the general reader an excellent idea of what romances of 
chivalry actually were. It has also the merit of being written 
in pure old English ; and many of the wild adventures which 
it contains, are told with a simplicity bordering upon the sub- 
lime. Several of these are referred to in the text; and I would 
have illustrated them by more full extracts, but as this curious 
work is about to be republished, I confine myself to the tale 
of the Chapel Perilous, and of the quest of Sir Launcelot after 
the Sangreall. 

" Right so Sir Launcelot departed ; and when he came, to 
the Chapell Perilous, he alighted downe, and tied his horse to 

11 



»* NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

a little gate. And as soon as he was within the church-yard, 
he saw, on the front of the chapell, many faire rich shields 
turned upside downe, and many of the shields Sir Launcelot 
had seene knights have before ; with that he saw stand by him 
thirtie great knights, more, by a yard, than any man that ever 
he had seene, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Laun- 
celot; and when he saw their countenance, hee dread them 
sore, and so put his shield afore him, and tooke his sword in 
his hand, ready to doe battaile ; and they were all armed in 
black harneis, ready, with their shields and swords drawen. 
And when Sir Launcelot would have gone through them, they 
scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way ; and 
therewith hee waxed all bold, and entered into the chapel!, and 
then he sawe no light but a dimme lampe burning, and then 
was hee ware of a corps covered with a cloath of siike; then 
Sir Launcelot stooped downe, and cut a piece of that cloath 
away, and then it fared under him as the earth had quaked a 
little, whereof hee was afeared, and then he saw a faire sword 
lye by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand, and hied 
him out of the chappell. As soon as he was in the chappell- 
yerd, all the knights spoke to him with a grimly voice, and said, 
' Knight Sir Launcelot, lay that sword from thee, or else thou 
shalt die.' f Whether I live or die,' said Sir Launcelot, * with 
no great words get yee it againe, therefore fight for it and yee 
list/ Therewith he passed through them; and, beyond the 
chappell-yerd, there met him a faire damosel, and said, ' Sir 
Launcelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. v 

it.' e I will not leave it,' said Sir Launcelot, ' for no threats/ 
' No ;' said she, ' and ye did leave that sword, Queene Guenever 
should ye never see.' ' Then were I foole and I would leav r e 
this sword,' said Sir Launcelot. ' Now, gentle knight,' said the 
damosel, ' I require thee to kisse me once.' * Nay,' said Sir 
Launcelot, ' that, God forbid !' ' Well, sir,' said she, ' and thou 
haddest kissed me, thy life dayes had been done; but now, 
alas !' said she, ' 1 have lost all ray labour ; for I ordeined this 
chappell for thy sake, and for Sir Gawaine : and once I had 
Sir Gawaine within it ; and at that time he fought with that 
knight which there lieth dead in yonder chappell, Sir Gilbert 
the bastard, and at that time hee smote off Sir Gilbert the bas- 
tard's left hand. And so, Sir Launcelot, now I tell thee x that 
I have loved thee this seaven yeare ; but there may no woman 
have thy love but Queene Guenever ; but sithen I may not re- 
Joyce thee to have thy body alive, I had kept no more joy in 
this world but to have had thy dead body ; and I would have 
balmed it and served, and so have kept it my life daies, and 
daily I should have clipped thee, and kissed thee, in the der 
spite of Queene Guenever.' ' Yee say well;' said Sir Launce- 
lot, ' Jesus preserve me from your subtil 1 craft !' And there- 
with he took his horse, and departed from her." 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 



Note II. 



A sinful man, and unconfessed, 
He took the SangreaVs holy quest. 
And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
He might not view with waking eye. — P. 17. 
One day, when Arthur was holding a high feast with his 
Knights of the Round Table, the Sangreal, or vessel out of 
which the last passover was eaten, a precious relick, which had 
long remained concealed from human eyes, because of the sins 
of the land, suddenly appeared to him and all his chivalry. The 
consequence of this vision was, that all the knights took on 
them a solemn vow to seek the Sangreal. But, alas ! it could 
only be revealed to a knight at once accomplished in earthly 
chivalry, and pure and guiltless of evil conversation. All Sir 
Launcelot's noble accomplishments were therefore rendered 
vain by his guilty intrigue with Queen Guenever, or Ganore; 
and in this holy quest he encountered only such disgraceful 
disasters as that which follows : 

" But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild 
forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him ; and 
at the last, he came unto a stone crosse, which departed two 
wayes, in wast land ; and by the crosse, was a. stone that was 
of marble ; but it was so darke, that Sir Launcelot might not 
well know what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and 
saw an old chappell, and there he wend to have found people. 
And so Sir Launcelot tied his horse to a tree, and there hee 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST, vli 

jiut off bis shield, and hung it upon a tree, and then hee went 
unto the chappell doore, and found it wasted and broken. And 
within he found a faire altar, full richly arrayed with cloth of 
silk, and there stood a faire candlesticke, which beare six great 
candles, and the candlesticke was of silver. And when Sir 
Launcelot saw this light, hee had a great will for to enter into 
the chappell, but hee could find no place where he might en- 
ter. Then was he passing heavie and dismaied. Then he re- 
turned, and came againe to his horse, and tooke off his saddle 
and his bridle, and let him pasture, and unlaced his helme, and 
ungirded his sword, and laid him downe to sleepe upon his 
shield before the crosse. 

" And so hee fell on sleepe, and halfe waking and halfe 
sleeping, he saw come by him two palfryes, both faire and 
white, the which beare a litter, therein lying a sicke knight. 
And when he was nigh the crosse, he there abode still. All 
this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for hee sleept not verily, 
and hee heard him say, ' Oh sweete Lord, when shall this sor- 
row leave me, and when shall the holy vessell come by me, 
where through I shall be blessed, for I have endured thus long, 
for little trespasse/ And thus a great while complained the 
knight, and allwaies Sir Launcelot heard it. With that Sir 
Launcelot saw the candlesticke, with the fire tapers, come be- 
fore the crosse ; but he could see no body that brought it. 
Also there came a table of silver, and the holy vessell of the 
Sancgreal, the which Sir Launcelot had seene before that time . 
ki king Petchour's house. And therewithal! the sicke knight 



▼iii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

set him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, ' Faire 
sweete Lord, which is here within the holy vessell, take heede 
to mee, that I may bee hole of this great malady.' And there- 
with upon his hands, and upon his knees, he went so nigh, that 
he touched the holy vessell, and kissed it : And anon he was 
hole ; and then he said, ' Lord God, I thank thee, for I am heal- 
ed of this malady/ Soo when the holy vessell had been there 
a great while, it went unto the chappell againe with the candle- 
sticke and the light, so that Sir Launcelot wist not where it be- 
came, for he was overtaken with sinne, that hee had no power 
to arise against the holy vessell, wherefore afterward many 
men said of him shame. But he tooke repentance afterward. 
Then the sicke knight dressed him upright, and kissed the crosse. 
Then anon his squire brought him his armes, and asked his 
lord how he did. ' Certainly,' said hee, ' I thanke God, right 
heartilv, for through the holy vessell I am healed : But I have 
right great mervaile of this sleeping knight, which hath had 
neither grace nor power to awake during the time that this ho- 
ly vessell hath beene here present.' \ I dare it right well say,' 
said the squire, ' that this same knight is defouled with some 
manner of deadly sinne, whereof he was never confessed.' ' By 
my faith,' said the knight, ' whatsoever he be, he is unhappie ; 
for, as I deeme, hee is of the fellowship of the Round Table, 
the which is entred into the quest of the Sancgreall.' ' Sir/ 
said the squire, * here I have brought you all your armes, save 
your helme and your sword; and therefore, by mine assent, 
now may ye take this knight's helme and his sword,' and so he 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. i* 

did. And when he was cleane armed, he tooke Sir Launcelot's 
horse, for he was better than his owne, and so they departed 
from the crosse. 

" Then anon Sir Launcelot awaked, and set himselfe upright, 
and he thought him what hee had there seene, and whether it 
were dreames or not ; right so he heard a voice that said, i Sir 
Launcelot, more hardy then is the stone, and more bitter then 
is the wood, and more naked and bare then is the liefe of the 
fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from 
this holy place ;' and when Sir Launcelot heard this, hee was 
passing heavy, and wit not what to doe. And so he departed 
sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was borne ; for then 
hee deemed never to have had more worship; for the words 
went unto his heart, till that he knew wherefore that hee was 
so called." 

Note III. 

And Dryden, in immortal strain, 

Had raised the Table Round again, 

But that a ribald king and court 

Bade him toil on to make them sport ; 

Demanded for their niggard pay, 

Fit for their souls, a looser lay. 

Licentious satire, song, and play. — P. 17, 18. 
Dryden's melancholy account of his projected Epic Poem, 
blasted by the selfish and sordid parsimony of his patrons, is 
contained in an <( Essay on Satire," addressed to the Earl of 



x NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

Dorset, and prefixed to the Translation of Juvenal After men- 
tioning a plan of supplying machinery from the guardian angels 
of kingdoms, mentioned in the book of Daniel, 'he adds: 

" Thus, my lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given your 
lordship, and by you the world, a rude draught of what 1 have 
been long labouring in my imagination, and what I had intend- 
ed to have put in practice; (though far unable for the attempt 
of such a poem,) and to have left the stage, to which my genius 
never much inclined me, for a work which would have taken 
up my life in the performance of it. This, too, I had intended 
chiefly for the honour of my native country, to which a poet is 
particularly obliged. Of two subjects, both relating to it, I was 
doubtful whether I should chuse that of King Arthur conquer- 
ing the Saxons, which, being farther distant in time, gives the 
greater scope to my invention ; or that of Edward the Black 
Prince, in subduing Spain, and restoring it to the lawful prince, 
though a great tyrant, Don Pedro the Cruel : which, for the 
compass of time, including only the expedition of one year, for 
the greatness of the action, and its answerable event, for the 
magnanimity of the English hero, opposed to the ingratitude of 
the person whom he restored, and for the many beautiful epi- 
sodes which I had interwoven with the principal design, toge- 
ther with the characters of the chiefest English persons, (where- 
in, after Virgil and Spenser, I would have taken occasion to 
represent my living friends and patrons of the noblest families, 
and also shadowed the events of future ages in the succession 
of our imperial line,) — with these helps, and those of the ma- 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xi 

chines which I have mentioned, I might perhaps have done as 
well as some of my predecessors, or at least chalked out a way 
for others to amend my errors in a like design ; but being en- 
couraged only with fair words by King Charles II., my little sa- 
lary ill paid, and no prospect of a future subsistence, I was then 
discouraged in the beginning of my attempt ; and now age has 
overtaken me, and want, a more insufferable evil, through the 
change of the times, has wholly disabled me." 

Note IV. 
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold. — P. 20. 
The " History of Bevis of Hampton" is abridged by my friend 
Mr George Ellis, with that liveliness which extracts amusement 
even out of the most rude and unpromising of our old tales of 
chivalry. Ascapart, a most important personage in the romance, 
is thus described in an extract : 



This geaunt was mighty and strong, 

And full thirty foot was long. 

He was bristled like a sow; 

A foot he had between each brow ; 

His lips were great, and hung aside; 

His eyen were hollow ; his mouth was wide ; 

Lothly he was to look on than, 

And liker a devil than a man. 

His staff was a young oak, 

Hard and heavy was his stroke. 

Specimens of Metrical Romances, Vol. II. p. 136. 



xii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

I am happy to say, that the memory of Sir Bevis is still fra- 
grant in his town of Southampton; the gate of which is centi- 
nelled by the effigies of that doughty knight-errant, and his gi- 
gantic associate. 

Note V. 

Day set on Norham! s castled steep. 

And Tweed's/air river, broad and deep, &c. — P. 23. 
The ruinous castle of Norham, (anciently called Ubbanford,) 
is situated on the southern bank of the Tweed, about six miles 
above Berwick, and where that river is still the boundary be- 
tween England and Scotland. The extent of its ruins, as well 
as its historical importance, shews it to have been a place of 
magnificence, as well as strength. Edward I. resided there 
when he was created umpire of the dispute concerning the 
Scottish succession. It was repeatedly taken and retaken du- 
ring the wars between England and Scotland; and, indeed, 
scarce any happened, in which it had not a principal share. 
Norham Castle is situated on a steep bank, which overhangs 
the river. The repeated sieges which the castle had sustained, 
rendered frequent repairs necessary. In 1164 it was almost 
rebuilt by Hugh Pudsey, bishop of Durham, who added a huge 
keep, or donjon ; notwithstanding which, King Henry IL, in 
1174, took the castle from the bishop, and committed the keep- 
ing of it to William de Neville. After this period it seems to 
have been chiefly garrisoned by the king, and considered as a 
royal fortress. The Greys of Chillinghame Castle were fre- 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xiii 

quently the castellans, or captains of the garrison : Yet, as the 
castle was situated in the patrimony of St Cuthbert, the pro- 
perty was in the see of Durham till the Reformation. After 
that period it passed through various hands. At the union of 
the crowns, it was in the possession of Sir Robert Carey, (af- 
terwards Earl of Monmouth,) for his own life, and that of two 
of his sons. After King James' accession, Carey sold Norham 
Castle to George Home Earl of Dunbar for L.6000. — See his 
curious Memoirs, published by Mr Constable of Edinburgh. 

According to MrPinkerton, there is, in the British Museum, 
Cal. B. 6. 216. a curious memoir of the Dacres on the state of 
Norham Castle in 1522, not long after the battle of Flodden. 
The inner ward, or keep, is represented as impregnable : " The 
provisions are three great vats of salt eels, forty-four kine, three 
hogsheads of salted salmon, forty quartes of grain, besides many 
cows, and four hundred sheep, lying under the castle-wall night- 
ly; but a number of the arrows wanted feathers, and a good 
jietcher {i. e. maker of arrows) was required." — History of 
Scotland, Vol. II. p. 201. Note. 

The ruins of the castle are at present considerable, as well 
as picturesque. They consist of a large shattered tower, with 
many vaults, and fragments of other edifices, inclosed within 
an outward wall of great circuit. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 



Note VI; 
The donjon keep. — P. 23. 
It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers, that the 
donjon, in its proper signification, means the strongest part of 
a feudal castle ; a high square tower, with walls of tremendous 
thickness, situated in the centre of the other buildings, from 
which, however, it was usually detached. Here, in case of the 
outward defences being gained, the garrison retreated to make 
their last stand. The donjon contained the great hall, and 
principal rooms of state for solemn occasions, and also the pri- 
son of the fortress ; from which last circumstance we derive 
the modern and restricted use of the word dungeon. Ducange 
(voce Dunjo) conjectures, plausibly, that the name is derived 
from these keeps being usually built upon a hill, which in Cel- 
tic is called Dun. Borlase supposes the word came from the 
darkness of the apartments in these towers, which were thence 
figuratively called Dungeons; thus deriving the ancient wor^ 
from the modern application of it. 

Note VII. 
Well zeas he armed from head to heel, 
In mail, and plate, of Milan steel. — P. 28. 
The artists of Milan were famous in the middle ages for their 
skill in armoury, as appears from the following passage, in 
which Froissart gives an account of the preparations made by 
Henry, Earl of Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., and Thomas, 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xv 

Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marisehal, for their proposed combat 
in the lists at Coventry : " These two lords made ample provi- 
sion of all things necessary for the combat ; and the Earl of 
Derby sent off messengers to Lombardy, to have armour from 
Sir Galeas, Duke of Milan. The duke complied with joy, and 
gave the knight, called Sir Francis, who had brought the mes- 
sage, the choice of all his armour for the Earl of Derby. When 
he had selected what he wished for in plated and mail armour, 
the lord of Milan, out of bis abundant love for the Earl, or- 
dered four of the best armourers in Milan to accompany the 
knight to England, that the Earl of Derby might be more com- 
pletely armed." — Johnes' Froissart, Vol. IV. p. 597. 

Note VIII. 
The golden legend bore aright, 

Wfyb cf?ec&0 at me to tieatf) is> "biofyu — P. 28. 1 

The crest and motto of Marmion are borrowed from the folr 
lowing story, Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crauford, 
was, among other gentlemen of quality, attended, during a visit 
to London, in 1390, by Sir William Dalzell, who was, accord- 
ing to my authority Bower, not only excelling in wisdom, but 
also of a lively wit. Chancing to be at the court, he there saw 
Sir Piers Courtenay, an English knight, famous for skill in tilt- 
ing, and for the beauty of his person, parading the palace, ar~ 
rayed in a new mantle, bearing for device an embroidered fal- 
con, with tfiis rhyme, — 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 



I bear a falcon, fairest of flight, 
Who so pinches at her, his death is dight 1 
In graith. 2 



The Scottish knight, being a wag, appeared next day in a 
dress exactly similar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a mag- 
pie instead of the falcon, with a motto ingeniously contrived to 
rhyme to the vaunting inscription of Sir Piers: 



I bear a pie picking at a piece, 
Who so picks at her, I shall pick at his nese, 3 
In faith. 



This affront could only be expiated by a just. with sharp lan- 
ces. In the course, Dalzell left his helmet unlaced, so that it 
gave way at the touch of his antagonist's lance, and he thus 
avoided the shock of the encounter. This happened twice : — 
in the third encounter, the handsome Courtenay lost two of his 
front teeth. As the Englishman complained bitterly of Dalzeli's 
fraud in not fastening his helmet, the Scottishman agreed to 
run six courses more, each champion staking in the hand of the 
king two hundred pounds, to be forfeited, if, on entering the 
lists, any unequal advantage should be detected. This being 
agreed to, the wily Scot demanded, that Sir Piers, in addition 
to the loss of his teeth, should consent to the extinction of one 



1 Prepared. * Armour. 3 Nose. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xvii 

of his eyes, he himself having lost an eye in the fight of Otter- 
burn. As Courtenay demurred to this equalization of optical 
powers, Dalzell demanded the forfeit ; which, after much al- 
tercation, the king appointed to be paid to him, saying, he sur- 
passed the Euglish both in wit and valour. This must appear 
to the reader a singular specimen of the humour of that time. 
I suspect the Jockey Club would have given a different deci- 
sion from Henry IV. 

Note IX. 

Largesse, largesse. — P. 33. 
This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were 
wont' to acknowledge the bounty received from the knights. 
Stewart of Lorn distinguishes a ballad, in which he satirizes 
the narrowness of James V., and his courtiers, by the ironical 
burden — 

Lerges, Urges, Urges, hay, 

Lerges of this new year day. 
First lerges, of the king, my chief, 
Who came as quiet as a thief, 
And in my hand slid — shillings twae ! * 
To put his largeness to the prief, z 
For, lerges of this new year day. 

The heralds, like the minstrels, were a race allowed to have 
great claims upon the liberality of the knights, of whose feats 
they kept a record, and proclaimed them aloud, as in the text, 
upon suitable occasions, 

1 Two. * Proof. 



xviii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST; 

At Berwick, Norham, and other Border fortresses of impor- 
tance, .pursuivants usually resided, whose inviolable character 
rendered them the only persons that could, with perfect assu- 
rance of safety, Joe sent on necessary embassies into Scotland, 
This is alluded to in Stanza XXII. p. 12. 

Note X. 

They hailed Lord Marmion : 
They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, 

Of Tamworth tower and town. — P. 32. 
Lord Marmion, the principal character of the present ro- 
mance, is entirely a fictitious personage. In earlier times, in- 
deed, the family of Marmion, lords of Fontenay, in Normandy, 
was highly distinguished. Robert de Marmion, Lord of Fonte- 
nay, a distinguished follower of the Conqueror, obtained a grant 
of the castle and town of Tamworth, and also of the manor of 
Scrivelby, in Lincolnshire. One, or both, of these noble pos- 
sessions was held by the honourable service of being the royal 
champion, as the ancestors of Marmion had formerly been to 
the Dukes of Normandy. But after the castle and demesne 
of Tamworth had passed through four successive barons from 
Robert, the family became extinct in the person of Philip de 
Marmion, who died in 20th Edward I., without issue male. He 
was succeeded in his castle of Tamworth by Alexander de Fre- 
ville, who married Mazera, his grand-daughter. Baldwin de 
Freville, Alexander's descendant, in the reign of Richard I., by 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xix 

the supposed tenure of his Castle of Tamworth, claimed the 
office of royal champion, and to do the service appertaining; 
namely, on the day of coronation, to ride completely armed, 
upon a barbed horse, into Westminster Hall, and there to chal- 
lenge the combat against any who would gainsay the king's title. 
But this office was adjudged to Sir John Dymocke, to whom 
the manor of Scrivelby had descended by another of the co- 
heiresses of Robert de Marmion ; and it remains in that family, 
whose representative is Hereditary Champion of England at 
the present day. The family and possessions of Freville have 
merged in the Earls of Ferrars : I have not, therefore, created 
a new family, but only revived the titles of an old one in an 
imaginary personage. 

It was one of the Marmion family, who, in the reign of Ed- 
ward II., performed that chivalrous feat before the very castle 
of Norham, which Bishop Percy has woven into his beautiful 
Ballad, " The Hermit of Warkworth." The Story is thus told 
by Leland : 

" The Scottes came yn to the marches of England, and de- 
stroyed the Castles of Werk and Herbotel, and overran much 
of Northumberland marches. 

" At this tyrae Thomas Gray and his friendes defended Nor- 
ham from the Scottes. 

" It were a wonderful processe to declare, what mischefes 
cam by hungre and asseges by the space of xi years in Nor- 
thumberland ; for the Scottes became so proud after they had 
got Berwick, that they nothing esteemed the Englishmen. 



xx NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

" About this tyme there was a greate feste made yn Lincoln- 
shir, to which came many gentilmen and ladies ; and amonge 
them one lady brought a healme for a man of were, with a 
very riche creste of gold, to William Marmion, knight, with a 
letter of commandement of her lady, that he should go into the 
daungerest place in England, and ther to let the heaulme be 
seene and known as famous. So he went to Norham ; whither 
within 4 days of cumming cam Philip Moubray, guardiau of 
Berwicke, having yn his bande 40 men of armes, the very flour 
of men of the Scottish marches. 

" Thomas Gray, capitayne of Norham, seynge this, brought 
his garison afore the barriers of the castel, behind whom cam 
William, richly arrayed, as al glittering in gold, and wealing 
the healme, his lady's present. 

" Then said Thomas Gray to Marmion, ' Sir knight, ye be 
cum hither to fame your helmet : mount up on yor horse, and 
ryde lyke a valiant man to yowr foes even here at hand, and I 
forsake God if I rescue not thy body deade or alyve, or I my- 
self wyl dye for it.' 

li Whereupon he toke his cursere, and rode among the throng 
of ennemyes ; the which layed sore stripes on hym, and pulled 
hym at the last out of his sadel to the grounde. 

" Then Thomas Gray, with al the hole garrison, lette prick 
yn among the Scottes, and so wondid them and their horses, 
that they were overthrowan ; and Marmion, sore beten, was 
horsid agayn, and, with Gray, perse wed the Scottes yn chase. 
There were taken 50 horse of price ; and the women of Nor- 
ham brought them to the foote men to follow the chase." 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xtci 

Note XI. 

Sir Hugh the Heron bold, 
Baron of Twisel, and of Ford, 
And Captain of the Hold. — P. 34. 
Were accuracy of any consequence in a fictitious narrative, 
this castellan's name ought to have been William : for William 
Heron, of Ford, was husband to the famous Lady Ford, whose 
syren charms are said to have cost our James IV. so dear. 
Moreover, the said William Heron was, at the time supposed, 
a prisoner in Scotland, being surrendered by Henry VIII., on 
account of his share in the slaughter of Sir Robert Ker of Cess- 
ford. His wife, represented in the text as residing at the court 
of Scotland, was, in fact, living in her own castle at Ford.— 
See Sir Richard Heron's curious Genealogy of the Heron 
Family. 

Note XII. 

The whiles a Northern harper rude 
Chaunted a rhyme of deadly feud, — 
" How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all," &c. 

Page 35. 
This old Northumbrian ballad was taken down from the re- 
citation of a woman eighty years of age, mother of one of the 
miners in Alston-moor, by an agent for the lead mines there,, 
who communicated it to my friend and correspondent, R. Sur- 
tees, Esquire, of Mainsforth. She had not, she said, heard it 



xxii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

for many years ; but when she was a girl, it used to be sung at 
merry makings, " till the roof rung again." To preserve this 
curious, though rude rhyme, it is here inserted. The ludicrous 
turn given to the slaughter, marks that wild and disorderly state 
of society, in which a murder was not merely a casual circum- 
stance, but, in some cases, an exceedingly good jest. The struc- 
ture of the ballad resembles the " Fray of Suport," 1 having the 
same irregular stanza and wild chorus. 



I. 

Hoot awa', lads, hoot awa', 

Ha' ye heard how the Ridleys, and Thirwalls, and a', 

Ha' set upon Albany 2 Featherstonhaugh, 

And taken his life at the Deadmanshaugh : 

There was Willimoteswick, 

AHd Hardriding Dick, 
And Hughie of Hawden, and Will of the Wa\ 

I canno' tell a', I canno' tell a', 
And rnony a mair that the deil may knaw. 

ir. 

The auld man went down, but Nicol, his son> 
Ran away afore the fight was begun ; 

And he ruu, and he run, 

And afore they were done, 
There was many a Featheiston gat sic a stun, 
As never was seen since the world begun. 



1 See Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Vol. I. p. 250, 

2 Pronounced Awbony. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxiii 

III. 

I canna' tell a', I canna 'tell a' ; 

Some gat a skelp, * and some gat a claw j 

But they gard the Featherstons haud their jaw,-— * 

JSicol, and Alick, and a'. 
Some gat a hurt, and some gat nane ; 
Some had harness, and some gat sta'en. 3 

IV. 

Ane gat a twist o' the craig ; 4 
Anegat a bunch s o' the wame ; 6 
Syray Haw gat lamed of a leg, 
And syne ran wallowing 7 hame. 

V. 

Hoot, hoot, the auld man's slain outright ! 

Lay him now wi' his face down : — he's a sorrowful sight. 

Janet, thou donot, 8 

I'll lay my best bonnet, 
Thou gets a new gude-man afore it be night. 



VI. 

Hoot away, lads, hoot away, 
Wi's a' be hangid if we stay. 



1 Skelp signifies slap, or rather is the same word which was ori- 
ginally spelled schlap. 

2 Hold their jaw, a vulgar expression still in use. 

3 Got stolen, or were plundered j a very likely termination of 
the fray. 

4 Neck. 5 Punch. 6 Belly. 7 Bellowing. 

8 Silly slut. The Border Bard calls her so, because she was 
weeping for her slain husband; a loss which he seems to think 
might be soon repaired. 



xxiv NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

Tak* up the dead man, and lay him ahint the bigging j 
Here's the Bailey o' Haltwhistle, 1 
Wi' his great bull's pizzle, 

That sup'd up the broo', and syne in the piggin. 2. 

In explanation of this ancient ditty, Mr Surtees has furnish- 
ed me with the following local memorandum : Willimoteswick, 
the chief seat of the ancient family of Ridley, is situated two 
miles above the confluence of the Allon and Tyne. It was a 
house of strength, as appears from one oblong tower, still in 
tolerable preservation. 3 It has been long in possession of the 
Blacket family. Hardriding Dick is not an epithet referring 
to horsemanship, but means Richard Ridley of Hardriding, 4 
the seat of another family of that name, which, in the time of 
Charles I., was sold on account of expenses incurred by the 
loyalty of the proprietor, the immediate ancestor of Sir Mat- 
thew Ridley. Will of the Wa' seems to be William Ridley of 



1 The Bailiff of Haltwhistle seems to have arrived when the 
fray was over. This supporter of social order is treated with cha- 
racteristic irreverence by the moss-trooping poet. 

2 An iron pot with two ears. 

3 Willimoteswick was, in prior editions, confounded with Rid- 
ley Hall, situated two miles lower on the same side of the Tyne, 
the hereditary seat of William C. Lowes, Esq. 

4 Ridley, the bishop and martyr, was, according to some au- 
thorities, born at Hardriding, where a chair was preserved, call- 
ed the Bishop's chair. Others, and particularly his biographer 
and namesake Dr Glocester Ridley, assign the honour of the mar- 
tyr's birth to Willimoteswick. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. rxv 

Walltown, so called from its situation on the great Roman 
wall. Thirwall Castle, whence the clan of Thirwalls derived 
their name, is situated on the small river of Tippel, near the 
western boundary of Northumberland. It is near the wail, 
and takes its name from the rampart having been thirled, i. e. 
pierced, or breached, in its vicinity. Featherston Castle lies 
south of the Tyne, towards Alston-moor. Albany Featherston- 
haugh, the chief of that ancient family, made a figure in the 
reign of Edward VI. A feud did certainly exist between the 
Ridleys and Featherstones, productive of such consequences as 
the ballad narrates. 24 Oct. Q2do Henrici Svi. Inqulsitio capt. 
apud Hautwhistle, sup. visum corpus Alexandri Featherston, 
Gen. apud Grensilhaugh,felonice interfecti, 22 Oct. per Nico- 
lawn Ridley de Unthanke, Gen. Hugon Ridle, Nicolaum Ridle, 
et alios ejusdem nominis. Nor were the Featherstones without 
their revenge ; for, 36to Henrici 8vi, we have — Utlagatio Nico- 
lai Fetherston, ac Thome Nyxson, fyc. fyc. pro homicidio Will. 
Ridle de Morale.] 

Note XIII. 

James backed the cause of that mock prince, 
Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, 
Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. 
Then did I march with Surrey's power, 
What time toe razed oldAyton tower. — P. 40. 
The story of Perkin Warbeck, or Richard, Duke of York, is 
well known. In 1496. he was received honourably in Scotland ; 



xxvi NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

and James IV., after conferring upon him in marriage his own 
relation, the Lady Catherine Gordon, made war on England in 
behalf of his pretensions. To retaliate an invasion of England, 
Surrey advanced into Berwickshire at the head of considerable 
forces, but retreated after taking the inconsiderable fortress of 
Ayton. Ford, in his Dramatic Chronicle of Perkin Warbeck, 
makes the most of this inroad : 



Surrey. Are all our braving enemies shrunk back ; 

Hid in the fogges of their distempered climate, 
Not daring to behold our colours wave 
In spight of this infected ayre ? Can they 
Looke on the strength of Cundrestine defac't ; 
The glorie of Heydouhail devasted ; that 
Of Edington cast downe ; the pile of Fulden 
Orethrowne : And this, the strongest of their forts, 
Old Ayton Castle, yeelded and demolished, 
And yet not peepe abroad ; the Scots are bold, 
Hardy in battayle, but it seemes the cause 
They undertake considered, appeares 
Unjoynted in the frame on't. 



Note XIV. 

For here be some have pricked as far 
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar ; 
Have drunk the monks of St Bothan f s ale, 
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 
Harried the wives of Greenlaw'' s goods. 
And given them light to set their hoods. — P. 41. 
The garrisons of the English castles of Wark, Norham, an« 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxvii 

Berwick, were, as may be easily supposed, very troublesome 
neighbours to Scotland. Sir Richard Maitland of Ledington 
wrote a poem, called " The Blind Baron's Comfort;" when his 
barony of Blythe, in Lauderdale, was harried by Rowland Fos- 
ter, the English captain of Wark, with his company, to the num- 
ber of 300 men. They spoiled the poetical knight of 5000 sheep, 
200 nolt, 30 horses and mares ; the whole furniture of his house 
of Blythe, worth 100 pounds Scots, (L8 : 6 : 8,) and every thing 
else that was portable. " This spoil was committed the 16th 
day of May, 1570, (and the said Sir Richard was threescore 
and fourteen years of age, and grown blind,) in time of peace; 
when none of that country lippened (expected) such a thing.'' — 
" The Blind Baron's Comfort " consists in a string of puns on * 
the word Blythe, the name of the lands thus despoiled. Like 
John Littlewit, he had "a conceit left him in his misery, — a 
miserable conceit." 

The last line of the text contains a phrase, by which the 
Borderers jocularly intimated the burning a house. When the 
Maxwells, in 1685, burned the castle of Lochwood, they said 
they did so to give the Lady Johnstone " light to set her hood :" 
Nor was the phrase inapplicable ; for, in a letter, to which I 
have mislaid the reference, the Earl of Northumberland writes 
to the king and council, that he dressed himself, at midnight, at 
Warkworth, by the blaze of the neighbouring villages, burned 
by the Scottish marauders. 



10 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 



Note XV. 



The Priest ofShoreswood.—P. 43. 
This churchman seems to have been a-kin to Welsh, the vi- 
car of St Thomas of Exeter, a leader among the Cornish in- 
surgents in 1549. " This man," says Hollinshed, " had many 
good things in him. He was of no great stature, but well set, 
and mightilie compact : He was a very good wrestler; shot 
well, both in the long-bow, and also in the cross-bow ; he han- 
dled his hand-gun and peece very well; he was a very good 
woodman, and a hardie, and such a one as would not give his 
head for the polling, or his beard for the washing. He was a 
companion in any exercise of activitie, and of a courteous and 
gentle behaviour. He descended of a good honest parentage, 
being borne at Peneverin, in Cornwall; and yet, in this rebel- 
lion, an arch-captain, and a principal dooer." — Vol. IV. p. 958. 
4to edition. This model of clerical talents had the misfortune 
to be hanged upon the steeple of his own church. 

Note XVI. 
And of that Grot where Olives nod. 
Where, darling of each heart and eye, 
From all the youth of Sicily, 

Saint Rosalie retired to God. — P. 46. 
" Sante Rosalia was of Palermo, and born of a very noble 
family, and, when very young, abhorred so much the vanities 
of this world, and avoided the converse of mankind, resolving 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. xxix 

to dedicate herself wholly to God Almighty, that she, by divine 
inspiration, forsook her father's house, and never was more 
heard of, till her body was found in that cleft of a rock, on 
that almost inaccessible mountain, where now the chappel is 
built ; and they affirm, she was carried up there by the hands 
of angels ; for that place was not formerly so accessible (as now 
it is) in the days of the Saint ; and even now it is a very bad, 
and steepy, and break-neck way. In this frightful place, this 
holy woman lived a great many years, feeding only on what she 
found growing on that barren mountain, and creeping into a 
narrow and dreadful cleft in a rock, which was always dropping 
wet, and was her place of retirement, as well as prayer ; having 
worn out even the rock with her knees, in a certain place, 
which is now open'd on purpose to show it to those who came 
here. This chappel is very richly adorn'd; and on the spot 
where the Saint's dead body was discover'd, which is just be- 
neath the hole in the rock, which is open'd on purpose, as I 
said, there is a very fine statue of marble, representing her in a 
lying posture, railed in all about with fine iron and brass work ; 
and the altar, on which they say mass, is built just over it." — 
Voyage to Sicily and Malta, by Mr John Dryden, (son to the 
poet,) p. 107; 

Note XVII. 
Himself still sleeps, before his beads 
Have marked ten aves, and two creeds. — P. 49. 
Friar John understood the soporific virtue of his beads, and 






xxx NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

breviary, as well as his namesake in Rabelais. " But Gargan- 
tua could not sleep by any means, on which side soever he turn- 
ed himself. Whereupon the monk said to him, I never sleep 
soundly but when I am at sermon or prayers : Let us there- 
fore begin, you and I, the seven penitential psalms, to try whe- 
ther you shall not quickly fall asleep. The conceit pleased 
Gargantua very well ; and, beginning the first of these psalms, 
as soon as they came to Beati quorum, they fell asleep, both 
the one and the other." 

Note XVIII. 
The summoned Palmer came in place ; 



In his black mantle was he clad, ' 

With Peter's keys, in cloth of red, 

On his broad shoulders wrought. — P. 49. 
A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it his 
sole business to visit different holy shrines; travelling incessant- 
ly, and subsisting by charity: whereas the Pilgrim retired to 
his usual home and occupations, when he had paid his devotions 
at the particular spot, which was the object of his pilgrimage. 
The Palmers seem to have been the Quastionarii of the ancient 
Scottish canons 1242 and 1296. There is, in the Bannatyne 
MS., a burlesque account of two such persons, entitled " Sim- 
my and his Brother." Their accoutrements are thus ludicrous- 
ly described, (I discard the ancient spelling.) 



NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

Syne shaped them up to loup on leas, 

Two tabards of the tartan ; 
They counted nought what their clouts were 

When sew'd them on, in certain. 
Syne clampit up St Peter's keys, 

Made of an old red gartane ; 
St James's shells, on t'other side, shews 

As pretty as a partane 

Toe, 

On Symmye and his brother. 



Note XIX. 

To fair St Andrew's bound, 
Within the ocean-cave to pray, 
Where good St Rule his holy lay, 
From midnight to the dawn of day, 
Sung to the billows' sound. — P. 52. 
St Regulus, (Scottice, St Rule,) a monk of Patrae, in Achaia, 
warned by a vision, is said, A. D. 3f 0, to have sailed westward, 
until he landed at St Andrew's, in Scotland, where he founded 
a chapel and tower. The latter is still standing; and, though 
we may doubt the precise date of its foundation, is certainly 
one of the most ancient edifices in Scotland. A cave, nearly 
fronting the ruinous castle of the Archbishops of St Andrew's, 
bears the name of this religious person. It is difficult of ac- 
cess ; and the rock in which it is hewed is washed by the Ger- 
man ocean. It is nearly round, about ten feet in diameter, and 
the same in height. On one side is a sort of stone altar; on 
the other, an aperture into an inner den, where the miserable 



xxxii NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 

ascetic, who inhabited this dwelling, probably slept. At full tide, 
egress and regress is hardly practicable. As Regulus first colo- 
nized the metropolitan see of Scotland, and converted the in- 
habitants in the vicinity, he has some reason to complain, that 
the ancient name of Killrule (Cella Reguli) should have been 
superseded, even in favour of the tutelar saint of Scotland. 
The reason of the change was, that St Rule is said to have 
brought to Scotland the reliques of St Andrew. 

Note XX. 
Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well, 
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, 
And the crazed brain restore. — P. 52. 
St Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. Although 
Popery is, with us, matter of abomination, yet the common 
people still retain some of the superstitions connected with it. 
There are, in Perthshire, several wells and springs dedicated 
to St Fillan, which are still places of pilgrimage and offerings, 
even among the Protestants. They are held powerful in cases 
of madness ; and, in cases of very late occurrence, lunatics have 
been left all night bound to the holy stone, in confidence that 
the saint would cure and unloose them before morning. 






NOTES TO CANTO SECOND, 



Note I. 
The scenes are desart now, and bare, 
Where flourished once a forest fair. — P. 59. 
Ettricke Forest, now a range of mountainous sheep-walks, 
was anciently reserved for the pleasure of the royal chace. 
Since it was disparked, the wood has been, by degrees, almost 
totally destroyed, although, wherever protected from the sheep, 
copses soon arise without any planting. When the king hunted 
there, he often summoned the array of the country to meet and 
assist his sport. Thus, in 1528, James V. " made proclama- 
tion to all lords, barons, gentlemen, landward-men, and free- 
holders, that they should compear at Edinburgh, with a month's 
victuals, to pass with the king where he pleased, to danton the 
thieves of Teviotdale, Anandale, Liddisdale, and other parts of 
that country; and also warned all gentlemen that had good 
dogs, to bring them, that he might hunt in the said country, as 
he pleased : The whilk the Earl of Argyle, the Earl of Hunt- 
ley, the Earl of Athole, and so all the rest of the gentlemen of 
G 



xxxiv NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 

the Highland, did, and brought their hounds with them in like 
manner, to hunt with the king, as he pleased. 

" The second day of June the king past out of Edinburgh 
to the hunting, with many of the nobles and gentlemen of Scot- 
land with him, to the number of twelve thousand men ; and 
then past to Meggitland, and hounded and hawked all the coun- 
try and bounds : that is to say, Crammat, Pappertlaw, St Mary- 
laws, Carlavirick, Chapel, Ewindoores, and Longhope. I heard 
say, he slew, in these bounds, eighteen score of harts." * 

These huntings had, of course, a military character, and at- 
tendance upon them was a part of the duty of a vassal. The 
act for abolishing ward, or military tenures, in Scotland, enu- 
merates the services of hunting, hosting, watching, and warding, 
as those which were in future to be illegal. 

Taylor, the water-poet, has given an account of the mode in 
which these huntings were conducted in the Highlands of Scot- 
land, in the seventeenth century, having been present at Brae- 
mar upon such an occasion : 

"There did 1 find the truly noble and right honourable lords, 
John Erskine, Earl of Mar ; James Stuart, Earl of Murray ; 
George Gordon, Earl of Engye, son and heir to the Marquis of 
Huntley; James Erskine, Earl of Buchan; and John, Lord 
Erskine, son and heir to the Earl of Marr, and their Countesses, 
with my much honoured, and my last assured and approved 
friend, Sir William Murray, knight of Abercarney, and hun- 

1 Pitscoxtie's History f Scotland, folio edition, p. 143. 
2 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xxxv 

dred of others, knights, esquires, and their followers; all and 
every man, in general, in one habit, as if Lycurgus had been 
there, and made laws of equality : for once in the year, which 
is the whole month of August, and sometimes part of September, 
many of the nobility and gentry of the kingdom (for their plea- 
sure) do come into these highland countries to hunt ; where 
they do conform themselves to the habit of the highland-men, 
who, for the most part, speak nothing but Irish ; and, in for- 
mer time, were those people which were called the Red-shanks. 
Their habit is — shoes, with but one sole a-piece ; stockings, 
(which they call short hose,) made of a warm stuff of diverse 
colours, which they call tartan ; as for breeches, many of them, 
nor their forefathers, never wore any, but a jerkin of the same 
stuff that their hose is off; their garters being bands or wreathes 
of hay, or straw; with a plaid about their shoulders, which is 
a mantle of diverse colours, much finer and lighter stuff than 
their hose ; with blue flat caps on their heads ; a handkerchief, 
knit with two knots, about their necks : and thus are they at- 
tired. Now their weapons are — long bowes and forked arrows, 
swords and targets, harqUebusses, muskets, durks, and Locha- 
ber axes. With these arms I found many of them armed for 
the hunting. As for their attire, any man, of what degree so- 
ever, that comes amongst them, must not disdain to wear it; 
for if they do, then they will disdain to hunt, or willingly to 
bring in their dogs; but if men be kind unto them, and be in 
their habit, then are they conquered with kindness, and the sport 
will be plentiful. This was the reason that I found so many 



xxxvi NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 

noblemen and gentlemen in those shapes. But to proceed to 
the hunting : 

" My good Lord of Marr having put me into that shape, I 
rode with him from his house, where I saw the ruins of an old 
castle, called the castle of Kindroghit. It was built by King 
Malcolm Canmore, (for a hunting house,) who reigned in Scot- 
land, when Edward the Confessor, Harold, and Norman Wil- 
liam, reigned in England. I speak of it, because it was the last 
house I saw in those parts ; for I was the space of twelve days 
after, before I saw either house, corn-field, or habitation for 
any creature, but deer, wild horses, wolves, and such like crea- 
tures, — which made me doubt that I should never have seen a 
house again. 

" Thus, the first day, we travelled eight miles, where there 
were small cottages, built on purpose to lodge in, which they call 
Lonquhards. I thank my good Lord Erskine, he commanded 
that I should always be lodged in his lodging : the kitchen be- 
ing always on the side of a bank ; many kettles and pots boil- 
ing, and many spits turning and winding, with great variety of 
cheer, — as venison baked ; sodden, rost, and stewed beef; mut- 
ton, goats, kid, hares, fresh salmon, pigeons, hens, capons, 
chickens, partridge, muir-coots, heath-cocks, caperkellies, and 
termagants; good ale, sacke, white and claret, tent (or allegant,) 
with most potent aquavitse. 

" All these, and more than these, we had continually in su- 
perfluous abundance, caught by falconers, fowlers, fishers, and 
brought by my lord's tenants and purveyors to victual our camps. 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOJND. xxxvii 

which consisted of fourteen or fifteen hundred men and horses. 
The manner of the hunting is this : Five or six hundred men 
do rise early in the morning, and they do disperse themselves 
divers ways, and seven, eight, or ten miles compass, they do 
bring, or chase in the deer, in many herds, (two, three, or four 
hundred in a herd,) to such or such a place, as the noblemen 
shall appoint them ; then, when day is come, the lords and 
gentlemen of their companies do ride or go to the said places, 
sometimes wading up to the middles, through burns and ri- 
vers; and then, they being come to the place, do lie down on 
the ground, till those foresaid scouts, which are called the Tink- 
hell, do bring down the deer : but, as the proverb says of a 
bad cook, so these tinkhell-men do lick their own fingers ; for, 
besides their bows and arrows, which they carry with them, we 
can hear, now and then, aharquebuss or a musket go oflP, which 
they do seldom discharge in vain. Then, after we had staid there 
three hours, or thereabouts, we might perceive the deer ap- 
pear on the hills round about us, (their heads making a shew 
like a wood,) which being followed close by the tinkhell, are 
chased down into the valley where we lay; then all the valley, 
on each side, being way-laid with a hundred couple of strong 
Irish greyhounds, they are all let loose, as occasion serves, upon 
the herd of deer, that, with dogs, guns, arrows, durks, and dag- 
gers, in the space of two hours, fourscorce fat deer were slain ; 
which after are disposed of, some one way, and some another, 
twenty and thirty miles, and more than enough left for us, to 
make merry withal, at our rendezvous." 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 



Note II. 
Yarrow, 



Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow. — P. 62. 
The tale of the outlaw Murray, who held out Newark Cas- 
tle and Ettricke Forest against the king, may be found in the 
" Border Minstrelsy," Vol I. In the Macfarlane MS., among 
other causes of James the Fifth's charter to the burgh, is men- 
tioned, that the citizens assisted him to suppress this danger- 
ous outlaw. 

Note III. 
Lone Saint Mary's silver lake. — P. 67. 
This beautiful sheet of water forms the reservoir from which 
the Yarrow takes its source. It is connected with a smaller 
lake, called the Loch of the Lowes, and surrounded by moun- 
tains. In the winter, it is still frequented by flights of wild 
swans ; hence my friend Mr Wordsworth's lines : 

The swans en sweet St Mary's lake, 
Float double, swan and shadow. 

Near the lower extremity of the lake, are the ruins of Dry- 
hope Tower, the birth-place of Mary Scott, daughter of Philip 
Scott of Dryhope, and famous by the traditional name of the 
Flower of Yarrow. She was married to Walter Scott of Har- 
den, no less renowned for his depredations, than his bride for 
her beauty. Her romantic appellation was, in latter days, with 






NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xxxis 

equal justice, conferred on Miss Mary Lilias Scott, the last of 
the elder branch of the Harden family. The author well re- 
members the talent and spirit of the latter Flower of Yarrow, 
though age had then injured the charms which procured her 
the name. The words usually sung to the air of " Tweedside," 
beginning, " What beauties does Flora disclose,' 7 were com- 
posed in her honour. 

Note IV. 
For though, in feudal strife, a foe 
Hath laid Our Lady's Chapel low. — P. 68. 
The chapel of Saint Mary of the Lowes (de lacubus) was si- 
tuated on the eastern side of the lake, to which it gives name. 
It was injured by the clan of Scott, in a feud with the Cran- 
stouns ; but continued to be a place of worship during the se- 
venteenth century. The vestiges of the building can now scarce- 
ly be traced ; but the burial ground is still used as a cemetery. 
A funeral, in a spot so very retired, has an uncommonly strik- 
ing effect. The vestiges of the chaplain's house are yet visible. 
Being in a high situation, it commanded a full view of the lake, 
with the opposite mountain of Bourhope, belonging with the 
lake itself, to Lord Napier. On the left hand is the tower of 
Dryhope, mentioned in the preceding note. 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 



Note V. 
-the wizard's grave ; 



That wizard priest's, whose bones are thrust 

From company of holy dust. — P. 70. 
At one corner of the burial ground of the demolished cha- 
pel, but without its precincts, is a small mound, called Bin- 
ram's corse, where tradition deposits the remains of a necro- 
mantic priest, the former tenant of the chaplainry. His story 
much resembles that of Ambrosio in the " Monk," and has been 
made the theme of a ballad, by my friend Mr James Hogg, 
more poetically designed the Ettricke Shepherd. To his vo- 
lume, entitled the " Mountain Bard," which contains this, and 
many other legendary stories and ballads of great merit, I re- 
fer the curious reader. 

Note VI. 
Wild Loch-skene.—P. 72. 
A mountain lake, of considerable size, at the head of the 
Moffat-water. The character of the scenery is uncommonly 
savage ; and the earn, or Scottish eagle, has, for many ages, 
built its nest yearly upon an islet in the lake. Loch-skene dis- 
charges itself into a brook, which, after a short and precipitate 
course, falls from a cataract of immense height, and gloomy 
grandeur, called, from its appearance, the " Grey Mare's Tail." 
The " Giant's Grave," afterwards mentioned, is a sort of trench, 
which bears that name, a little way from the foot of the cata- 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xli 

jact. It has the appearance of a battery designed to command 
the pass. 

Note VII. 
Where from high Whitby's cloistered pile, 
Bound to St Cuthbert's Holy Isle.— P. 78. 

The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleaveland, 
on the coast of Yorkshire, was founded A. D. 657, in conse- 
quence of a vow of Oswy, King of Northumberland. It con- 
tained both monks and nuns of the Benedictine order ; but, 
contrary to what was usual in such establishments, the abbess 
was superior to the abbot. The monastery was afterwards 
ruined by the Danes, and rebuilded by William Percy, in the 
reign of the Conqueror. There were no nuns there in Henry 
the Eighth's time, nor long before it. The ruins of Whitby 
Abbey are very magnificent. 

Lindisfarne, an isle on the coast of Northumberland, was 
called Holy Island, from the sanctity of its ancient monastery, 
and from its having been the episcopal seat of the see of Dur- 
ham during the early ages of British Christianity. A succes- 
sion of holy men held that office ; but their merits were swal- 
lowed up in the superior fame of St Cuthbert, who was sixth 
bishop of Durham, and who bestowed the name of his " patri- 
mony" upon the extensive property of the see. The ruins of 
the monastery upon Holy Island betoken great antiquity. The 
arches are, in general, strictly Saxon ; and the pillars which 
support them, short, strong, and massy. In some places, how- 



xlii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 

ever, there are pointed windows, which indicate that the build- 
ing has been repaired at a period long subsequent to the origi- 
nal foundation. The exterior ornaments of the building, being 
of a light sandy stone, have been wasted, as described in the 
text. Lindisfarne is not properly an island, but rather, as the 
venerable Bede has termed it, a semi-isle ; for, although sur- 
rounded by the sea at full tide, the ebb leaves the sands dry 
between it and the opposite coast of Northumberland, from 
which it is about three miles distant. 

Note VIII. 

Then Whitby's nuns, exulting, told, 
How to their house three Barons bold 
Must menial service do, — P. 90. 
The popular account of this curious service, which was pro- 
bably considerably exaggerated, is thus given" in " A True Ac- 
count," printed and circulated at Whitby: " In the fifth year of 
the reign of Henry II., after the conquest of England by 
William, Duke of Normandy, the lord of Uglebarnby, then 
called William de Bruce; the lord of Smeaton, called Ralph 
de Percy ; with a gentleman and freeholder called Allatson, 
did, on the 16th of October, 1159, appoint to meet and hunt 
the wild boar, in a certain wood, or desart place, belonging to 
the abbot of Whitby: the place's name wasEskdale-side; and 
the abbot's name was Sedman. Then, these young gentlemen 
being met, with their hounds, and boar-staves, in the place be- 
fore mentioned, and there having found a great wild boar, the 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xliii 

hounds ran him well near about the chapel and hermitage of 
Eskdale-side, where was a monk of Whitby, who was an her- 
mit. The boar being very sorely pursued, and dead-run, took 
in at the chapel door, there laid him down, and presently died. 
The hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself 
within at his meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at 
bay without. The gentlemen, in the thick of the wood, being 
just behind their game, followed the cry of their hounds, and 
so came to the hermitage, calling on the hermit, who opened 
the door, and came forth; and within they found the boar lying 
dead : for which, the gentlemen, in a very great fury, because 
the hounds were put from their game, did most violently and 
cruelly run at the hermit with their boar-staves, whereby he 
soon after died. Thereupon the gentlemen perceiving and 
knowing that they were in peril of death, took sanctuary at 
Scarborough : But at that time the abbot being in very great 
favour with the king, removed them out of the sanctuary ; 
whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to be privi- 
leged, but likely to have the severity of the law, which was 
death for death. But the hermit being a holy and devout man, 
and at the point of death, sent for the abbot, and desired him 
to send for the gentlemen who had wounded him. The abbot 
so doing, the gentlemen came ; and the hermit being very sick 
and weak, said unto them, ' I am sure to die of those wounds 
you have given me/ The abbot answered, l They shall as sure-^ 
ly die for the same.' But the hermit answered, ' Not so, for I 
will freely forgive them my death, if they will be content to be 



xliv NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 

enjoined the penance I shall lay on them for the safeguard af 
their souls/ The gentlemen being present, bade him save their 
lives. Then said the hermit : * You and yours shall hold your 
lands of the abbot of Whitby, and his successors, in this man- 
ner : That, upon Ascension-day, you, or some of you, shall 
come to the wood of the Stray-heads, which is in Eskdale-side, 
the same day at sun-rising, and there shall the abbot's officer 
blow his horn, to the intent that you may know where to find 
him; and he shall deliver unto you, William de Bruce, ten 
stakes, eleven strout stowers, and eleven yethers, to be cut by 
you, or some of you, with a knife of one penny price ; and you, 
Ralph de Percy, shall take twenty-one of each sort, to be cut 
in the same manner; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of each 
sort, to be cut as aforesaid ; and to be taken on your backs, 
and carried to the town of Whitby, and to be there before nine 
of the clock the same day before mentioned. At the same 
hour of nine of the clock, if it be full sea, your labour and ser- 
vice shall cease ; and, if low water, each of you shall set your 
stakes to the brim, each stake one yard from the other, and so 
yether them on each side with your yethers; and so stake on 
each side with your strout stowers, that they may stand three 
tides, without removing by the force thereof. Each of you 
shall do, make, and execute, the said service, at that very hour, 
every year, except it be full sea at that hour; but when it shall 
so fall out, this serviee shall cease. You shaK faithfully do 
this, in remembrance that you did most cruelly slay me; and 
that you may the better call to God for mercy, repent unfeign- 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND, x\r 

edly of your sins, and do good works. The officer of Eskdale- 
side shall blow, Out on you ! Out on you ! Out on you! for 
this heinous crime. If you, or your successors, shall refuse 
this service, so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid 
hour, you, or yours, shall forfeit your lands to the abbot of 
Whitby, or his successors. This I entreat, and earnestly beg, 
that you may have lives and goods preserved for this service; 
and I request of you to promise, by your parts in heaven, that 
it shall be done by you, and your successors, as is aforesaid 
requested ; and I will confirm it by the faith of an honest man.' 
Then the hermit said, ' My soul longeth for the Lord : and I 
do as freely forgive these men my death, as Christ forgave the 
thieves on the cross.' And, in the presence of the abbot and 
the rest, he said moreover these words : ' In manus tuos, Do- 
mine, commendo spiritum meum, a vinculis enim mortis rede- 
misti me, Domine veritatis. Amen.'' — So he yielded up the 
ghost the eighth day of December, anno Domini 1159, whose 
soul God have mercy upon. Amen. 

" This service," it is added, " still continues to be performed 
with the prescribed ceremonies, though not by the proprietors 
in person. Part of the lands charged therewith are now held 
by a gentleman of the name of Herbert." 

Note IX. 

The lovely Edelfled.—P. 91. 
She was the daughter of King Oswy, who, in gratitude to 
heaven for the great victory which he won in 655, against 



xlvi NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 

Penda, the pagan king of Mercia, dedicated Edelfleda, then 
but a year old, to the service of God in the monastery of Whit- 
by, of which St Hilda was then abbess. She afterwards adorn- 
ed the place of her education with great magnificence. 

Note X. 



of thousand snakes, each one 

Was changed into a coil of stone, 
When holy Hilda prayed. 

how sea-fowU pinions fail, 

As over Whitby y s tozoers they sail — P. 91. 
These two miracles are much insisted upon by all ancient 
writers, who have occasion to mention either Whitby, or St 
Hilda. The rehques of the snakes which infested the precincts 
of the convent, and were, at the abbess's prayer, not only be- 
headed, but petrified, are still found about the rocks, and are 
termed by Protestant fossilists Ammonit/e. 

The other miracle is thus mentioned by Camden : " It is also 
ascribed to the power of her sanctity, that these wild geese, 
which, in the winter, fly in great flocks to the lakes and rivers 
unfrozen in the southern parts, to the great amazement of eve- 
ry one, fall down suddenly upon the ground, when they are in 
their flight over certain neighbouring fields hereabouts : a rela- 
tion I should not have made, if I had not received it from se- 
veral credible men. But those who are less inclined to heed 
superstition, attribute it to some occult quality in the ground, 
and to somewhat of antipathy between it and the geese, such 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xlvii 

as they say is between wolves and scylla-roots : For, that such 
hidden tendencies and aversions, as we call sympathies and 
antipathies, are implanted in many things by provident nature 
for the preservation of them, is a thing so evident, that every 
body grants it.' 7 Mr Charleton, in his history of Whitby, points 
out the true origin of the fable, from the number of sea-gulls, 
that, when flying from a storm, often alight near Whitby ; and 
from the woodcocks, and other birds of passage, who do the 
same upon their arrival on shore, after a long flight. 

Note XI. 

His body's resting-place of old, 
How oft their patron changed, they told. — P. 92. 
St Cuthbert was, in the choice of his sepulchre, one of the 
most mutable and unreasonable saints in the Calendar. He 
died A. D. 686, in a hermitage upon the Fame islands, having 
resigned the bishopric of Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, about 
two years before. His body was brought to Lindisfarne, where 
it remained until a descent of the Danes, about 763, when the 
monastery was nearly destroyed. The monks fled to Scotland, 
with what they deemed their chief treasure, the reliques of St 
Cuthbert. The saint was, however, a most capricious fellow- 
traveller; which was the more intolerable, as, like Sinbad's 
Old Man of the Sea, he journeyed upon the shoulders of his 
companions. They paraded him through Scotland for several 
years, and came as far west as Whithern, in Galloway, whence 
they attempted to sail for Ireland, but were driven back by 



xlviii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 

tempests. He at length made a halt at Norham ; from thence 
he went to Melrose, where he remained stationary for a short 
time, and then caused himself to be launched upon the Tweed 
in a stone coffin, which landed him at Tilmouth, in Northum- 
berland. This boat is finely shaped, ten feet long, three feet 
and a half in diameter, and only four inches thick; so that, 
with ver} little assistance, it might certainly have swam : It 
still lies, or at least did so a few years ago, in two pieces, beside 
the ruined chapel of Tillmouth. From Tillmouth, Cuthbert 
wandered into Yorkshire ; and at length made a long stay at 
Chester-le-street, to which the bishop's see was transferred. 
At length, the Danes continuing to infest the country, the 
monks removed to Rippon for a season ; and it was in return 
from thence to Chester-le-street, that, passing through a forest 
called Dunholme, the Saint and his carriage became immove- 
able at a place named Wardlaw, or Wardilaw. Here the Saint 
chose his place of residence ; and all who have seen Durham 
must admit, that, if difficult in his choice, he evinced taste in at 
length fixing it. It is said, that the Northumbrian Catholics 
still keep secret the precise spot of the Saint's sepulture, which 
is only entrusted to three persons at a time. When one dies, 
the survivors associate to them, in his room, a person judged fit 
to be the depositary of so valuable a secret. 






NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. xlix 



Note XII. 
Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, &c. 
Before hts standard jled. — P. 93. 
Every one has heard, that when David I., with his son Henry, 
Invaded Northumberland in 1136, the English host marched 
against them under the holy banner of St Cuthbert ; to the 
efficacy of which was imputed the great victory which they ob- 
tained in the bloody battle of Northallerton, or Cuton-moor. 
The conquerors were at least as much indebted to the jealousy 
and intractability of the different tribes who composed David's 
army; among whom, as mentioned in the text, were the Gal- 
wegians, the Britons of Strath-Clyde, the men of Teviotdale 
and Lothian, with many Norman and German warriors, who 
asserted the cause of the Empress Maud. See Chalmers' 
Caledonia, p. 622 ; a most laborious, curious, and interesting 
publication, from which considerable defects of style and man- 
ner ought not to turn aside the Scottish antiquary. 

Note XIII. 
f Twas he, to vindicate his reign, 
Edged Alfred's faulchion on the Dane, 
And turned the Conqueror hack again. — P. 94. 
Cuthbert, we have seen, had no great reason to spare the 
Danes, when opportunity offered. Accordingly, I find in Si- 
meon of Durham, that the Saint appeared in a vision to Alfred, 
when lurking in the marshes of Glastonbury, and promised him 

d 



1 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 

assistance and victory over his heathen enemies : a consolation 
which, as was reasonable, Alfred, after the victory of Ashen- 
down, rewarded, by a royal offering at the shrine of the Saint. 
As to William the Conqueror, the terror spread before his ar- 
my, when he marched to punish the revolt of the Northumbri- 
ans, in 1096, had forced the monks to fly once more to Holy 
Tsland with the body of the Saint. It was, however, replaced 
before William left the north ; and, to balance accounts, the 
Conqueror having intimated an indiscreet curiosity to view the 
Saint's body, he was, while in the act of commanding the shrine 
to be opened, seized with heat and sickness, accompanied with 
such a panic terror, that, notwithstanding there was a sumptu- 
ous dinner prepared for him, he fled without eating a morsel, 
(which the monkish historian seems to have thought no small 
part both of the miracle and the penance,) and never drew his 
bridle till he got to the river Tees. 

Note XIV. 
St Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame 
The sea-born beads, that bear his name. — P. 94. 
Although we do not learn that Cuthbert was, during his life, 
such an artificer as Dunstan, his brother in sanctity, yet, since 
his death, he has acquired the reputation of forging those En- 
trochi which are found among the rocks of Holy Island, and 
pass there by the name of St Cuthbert's Beads. While at this 
task, he is supposed to sit during the night upon a certain rock, 
and use another as his anvil. This story was perhaps credited 
8 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. li 

in former days ; at least the Saint's legend contains some not 

more probable. 

-* 

Note XV. 
Old Colwulf.—?. 95. 

Ceolwolf, or Colwulf, King of Northumberland, flourished 
in the eighth century. He was a man of some learning ; for 
the venerable Bede dedicates to him his " Ecclesiastical His- 
tory." He abdicated the throne about 738, and retired to 
Holy Island, where he died in the odour of sanctity. Saint as 
Colwulf was, however, I fear the foundation of the penance- 
vault does not correspond with his character; for it is record- 
ed among his memorabilia, that, finding the air of the island raw 
and cold, he indulged the monks, whose rule had hitherto con- 
fined them to milk or water, with the comfortable privilege of 
using wine or ale. If any rigid antiquary insists on this objec- 
tion, he is welcome to suppose the penance-vault was intend- 
ed, by the founder, for the more genial purposes of a cellar. 

These penitential-vaults were the Geissel-gezvolbe of German 
convents. In the earlier and more rigid times of monastic dis- 
cipline, they were sometimes used as a cemetery for the lay 
benefactors of the convent, whose unsanctified corpses were 
then seldom permitted to pollute the choir. They also served 
as places of meeting for the chapter, when measures of uncom- 
mon severity were to be adopted. But their most frequent 
use, as implied by the name, was as places for performing pe- 
nances, or undergoing punishment. 



lii NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 



Note XVI. 
TynemoutWs haughty Prioress. — P. 98. 
That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain. 
Its ruins are situated on a high rocky point ; and, doubtless, 
many a vow was made the shrine by the distressed mariners, 
who drove towards the iron-bound coast of Northumberland in 
stormy weather. It was anciently a nunnery ; for Virca, ab- 
bess of Tynemouth, presented St Cuthbert (yet alive) with a 
rare winding-sheet, in emulation of a holy lady, called Tuda, 
who had sent him a coffin: But, as in the case of Whitby, and 
of Holy Island, the introduction of nuns at Tynemouth, in the 
reign of Henry VIII., is an anachronism. The nunnery at 
Holy Island is altogether fictitious. Indeed, St Cuthbert was 
unlikely to permit such an establishment ; for, notwithstanding 
his accepting the mortuary gifts above mentioned, and his car- 
rying on a visiting acquaintance with the abbess of Colding- 
ham, he certainly hated the whole female sex; and, in revenge 
of a slippery trick played to him by an Irish princess, he, after 
death, inflicted severe penances on such as presumed to ap- 
proach within a certain distance of his shrine. 

Note XVII. 
On those the wall teas to inclose 
Alive, within the tomb, — P. 103. 
It is well known, that the religious, who broke their rows of 
chastity, were subjected to the same penalty as the Roman 



: 



NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 



liii 



vestals in a similar case. A small niche, sufficient to enclose 
their bodies, was made in the massive wall of the convent; a 
slender pittance of food and water was deposited in it, and the 
awful words, Vade in Pace, were the signal for immuring 
the criminal. It is not likely that, in latter times, this punish- 
ment was often resorted to ; but, among the ruins of the abbey 
of Coldingbam, were some years ago discovered the remains of 
a female skeleton, which, from the shape of the niche, and po- 
sition of the figure, seemed to be that of an immured nun. 



NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 



Note I. 
The village inn. — P. 135. 
The accommodations of a Scottish hostelrie, or inn, in the 
16th century, may be collected from Dunbar's admirable tale 
of " The Friars of Berwick." Simon Lawder, " the gay ostleir," 
seems to have lived very comfortably ; and his wife decorated 
her person with a scarlet kirtle, and a belt of silk and silver, 
and rings upon her fingers; and feasted her paramour with 
rabbits, capons, partridges, and Bourdeaux wine, At least, if 
the Scottish inns were not good, it was not for want of encou- 
ragement from the legislature ; who, so early as the reign of 
James I., not only enacted, that in all boroughs and fairs there 
be hostellaries, having stables and chambers, and provision for 
man and horse ; but, by another statute, ordained, that no man, 
travelling on horse or foot, should presume to lodge any where 
except in these hostellaries; and that no person, save inn- 
keepers, should receive such travellers, under the penalty of 
forty shillings, for exercising such hospitality * But, in spite of 

* James I. Pailiament I. cap. 24; Parliament III. cap. 56. 



Ivi NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 

these provident enactments, the Scottish hostels are but indif- 
ferent, and strangers continue to find reception in the house* 
of individuals. 

Note II. 
The death of a dear friend, — P. 145. 
Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among 
the Scottish peasantry, is what is called the " dead-bell," ex- 
plained by my friend James Hogg, to be that tinkling in the 
ears which the country people regard as the secret intelligence 
of some friend's decease. He tells a story to the purpose in 
" The Mountain Bard," p. 26. 

Note III. 
The Goblin Hall.—?. 151. 
A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of Gifford, or Yester, 
(for it bears either name indifferently,) the construction of 
which has, from a very remote period, been ascribed to magic. 
The Statistical Account of the Parish of Garvald and Baro, 
gives the following account of the present state of this castle 
and apartment : " Upon a peninsula, formed by the water of 
Hopes on the east, and a large rivulet on the west, stands the 
ancient castle of Yester. Sir David Dalrymple, in his Annals, 
relates, that ' Hugh Gifford de Yester died in 1267 ; that in his 
castle there was a capacious cavern formed by magical art, and 
called in the country Bo-hall, i. e. Hobgoblin Hall.' A stair of 
twenty-four steps led down to this apartment, which is a large 



NOTES TO CANTO THIRD, lvii 

and spacious hall, with an arched roof; and though it hath 
stood for so many centuries, and been exposed to the external 
air for a period of fifty or sixty years, it is stiil as firm and en- 
tire as if it had only stood a few years. From the floor of this 
hall, another stair of thirty-six steps leads down to a pit which 
hath a communication with Hopes-water. A great part of the 
walls of this large and ancient castle are still standing. There 
is a tradition, that the castle of Yester was the last fortification 
in this country that surrendered to General Gray, sent into 
Scotland by Protector Somerset.'' Statistical Account, Vol. 
XIII. I have only to add, that, in 1737, the Goblin Hall was 
tenanted by the Marquis of Tweedale's falconer, as I learn from 
a poem by Boyse, entitled " Retirement," written upon visiting 
Yester. It is now rendered inaccessible by the fall of the stair. 
Sir David Dairymple's authority for the anecdote is Fordun, 
whose words are,—-" A. D. mcclxvit, Hugo Giffard de Yester 
moriiur ; cujus castrum, vel saltern caveam, et dongionem, arte 
damonicd antiquce relationes ferunt fabrifactas : nam ibidem 
habetur mirabdis specus subierraneus, opere mirifico construc- 
tus, magno terrarum spatio protelatus, qui communittr ^Osl^aH 
appellatus est." Lib. X, cap. 21. — Sir David conjectures, that 
Hugh de GirFord must have been either a very wise man, or a 
great oppressor. 



Iviii NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 



Note IV. 
There floated Haco's banner trim, 
Above Norzoeyan warriors grim. — P. 153. 
In 1263, Haco, King of Norway, came into the Firth of 
Clyde with a powerful armament, and made a descent at Largs, 
in Ayrshire. Here he was encountered and defeated, on the 
2d October, by Alexander III. Haco retreated to Orkney, 
where he died soon after this disgrace to his arms. There are 
still existing, near the place of battle, many barrows, some of 
which, having been opened, were found, as usual, to contain 
bones and urns. 

Note V. 
His wizard habit strange. — P. 153. 
" Magicians, as is well known, were very curious in the choice 
and form of their vestments. Their caps are oval, or like py- 
ramids, with lappets on each side, and fur within. Their gowns 
are long, and furred with fox-skins, under which they have a 
linen garment, reaching to the knee. Their girdles are three 
inches broad, and have many cabalistical names, with crosses, 
trines, and circles, inscribed on them. Their shoes should be of 
new russet leather, with a cross cut upon them. Their knives 
are dagger fashion ; and their swords have neither guard nor 
scabbard." See these, and many other particulars, in the Dis- 
course concerning Devils and Spirits, annexed to Reginald 
Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, edition 1665. 



NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. lix 



Note VI. 

Upon his breast a pentacle. — P. 153. 
" A pentacle is a piece of fine linen, folded with five cor- 
ners, according to the five senses, and suitably inscribed with 
characters. This the magician extends towards the spirits 
which he evokes, when they are stubborn and rebellious, and 
refuse to be conformable unto the ceremonies and rites of ma- 
gic." See the Discourse, &c. above mentioned, p. 66. 

Note VII. 
As born upon that blessed night, 
When yawning graves, and dying groan. 
Proclaimed helVs empire overthrown. — P. 155. 
It is a popular article of faith, that those who are born on 
Christmas, or Good-Friday, have the power of seeing spirits, 
and even of commanding them. The Spaniards imputed the 
haggard and down-cast looks of their Philip II., to the dis- 
agreeable visions to which this privilege subjected him. 

Note VIII. 
Yet still the mighty spear and shield, 
The elfin warrior doth wield 

Upon the brown hilVs breast. — P. 161. 
The following extract from the Essay upon the Fairy Super- 
stitions, in " The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," Vol. II,, 



Ix NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 

will shew whence many of the particulars of the combat be- 
tween Alexander ITT. and the Goblin Knight are derived : 

" Gervase of Tilbury (Otia Imperial, ap. Script, rer. Bruns- 
mc, Vol. I. p. 797.) relates the following popular story con- 
cerning a fairy knight: — * Osbert, a bold and powerful baron, 
visited a noble family in the vicinity of Wandlebury, in the 
bishopric of Ely. Among other stories related in the social cir- 
cle of his friends, who, according to custom, amused each other 
by repeating ancient tales and traditions, he was informed, that 
if any knight, unattended, entered an adjacent plain by moon- 
fight, and challenged an adversary to appear, he would be im- 
mediately encountered by a spirit in the form of a knight. Os- 
bert resolved to make the experiment, and set out, attended 
by a single squire, whom he ordered to remain without the 
limits of the plain, which was surrounded by an ancient en- 
trenchment. On repeating the challenge, he was instantly as- 
sailed by an adversary, whom he quickly unhorsed, and seized 
the reins of his steed. During this operation, his ghostly op- 
ponent sprung up, and, darting his spear, like a javelin, at Os- 
bert, wounded him in the thigh. Osbert returned in triumph 
with the horse, which he committed to the care of his servants* 
The horse was of a sable colour, as well as his whole accoutre- 
ments, and apparently of great beauty and vigour. He remain- 
ed with his keeper till cock-crowing, when, with eyes flashiag 
fire, he reared, spurned the ground, and vanished. On dis- 
arming himself, Osbert perceived that he was wounded, and 



NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. ixi 

that one of his steel-boots was full of blood. Gervase adds, 
that, as long as he lived, the scar of his wound opened afresh 
on the anniversary of the eve on which he encountered the 
spirit. — Less fortunate was the gallant Bohemian knight, who, 
travelling bj night, with a single companion, came in sight of 
a Fairy host, arrayed under displayed banners. Despising the 
remonstrances of his friend, the knight pricked forward to 
break a lance with a champion, who advanced from the ranks, 
apparently in defiance. His companion beheld the Bohemian 
overthrown, horse and man, by his aerial adversary; and re- 
turning to the spot next morning, he found the mangled corpses 
of the knight and steed." — Hierarchy of Blessed Angels, 
p. 554. 

Besides the instances of Elfin Chivalry, above quoted, many 
others might be alleged in support of employing Fairy ma- 
chinery in this manner. The forest of Glenmore, in the North 
Highlands, is believed to be haunted by a spirit called Lham- 
dearg, in the array of an ancient warrior, having a bloody- 
hand, from which he takes his name. He insists upon those 
with whom he meets doing battle with him ; and the clergy- 
man, who makes up an account of the district, extant in the 
Macfarlane MS., in the Advocates' Library, gravely assures 
us, that, in his time, Lham-dearg fought with three brothers 
whom he met in his walk, none of whom long survived the 
ghostly conflict. Barclay, in his " Euphormion," gives a sin- 
gular account of an officer who had ventured, with his ser- 
vant, rather to intrude upon a haunted house in a town in 



lxii NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 

Flanders, than to put up with worse quarters elsewhere. Af- 
ter taking the usual precautions of providing fires, lights, and 
arms, they watched till midnight, when, behold ! the severed 
arm of a man dropped from the ceiling ; this was followed by 
the legs, the other arm, the trunk, and the head of the body, 
all separately. The members rolled together, united them- 
selves in the presence of the astonished soldiers, and formed a 
gigantic warrior, which defied them both to combat. Their 
blows, although they penetrated the body, and amputated the 
limbs of their strange antagonist, had, as the reader may easi- 
ly believe, little effect on an enemy who possessed such pow- 
ers of self-union ; nor did his efforts make more effectual im- 
pression upon them. How the combat terminated I do not 
exactly remember, and have not the book by me; but I think 
the spirit made to the intruders on his mansion the usual pro- 
posal, that they should renounce their redemption ; which be- 
ing declined, he was obliged to retreat. 

The most singular tale of the kind is contained in an ex- 
tract communicated to me by my friend Mr Surtees of Mains- 
forth, in the bishopric, who copied it from a MS. note in a 
copy of Burthogge " On the Nature of Spirits," 8vo, 1694, 
which had been the property of the late Mr Gill, attorney- 
general to Egerton, Bishop of Durham. " It was not/' says 
my obliging correspondent, " in Mr Gill's own hand, but pro- 
bably an hundred years older, and was said to be E libro Con- 
vent. Dunehn. per T. C. extract., whom I believe to have 
been Thomas Cradocke, Esq. barrister, who held several of- 



NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. lxiii 

fices under the see of Durham an hundred years ago. Mi- 
Gill was possessed of most of his manuscripts." The extract, 
which, in fact, suggested the introduction of the tale into the 
present poem, runs thus : 

" Rem miram hujusmodi qu<z nostris temporibus evenit, teste 
viro nobili acfide dignissimo, enarrare haudpigebit. Radulphus- 
Bulmer, cum e castris qua, tunc temporis prope Norham posita 
erant, oblectationis causa exiisset, ac in ulteriore Tueda ripd 
pradam cum canibus leporariis insequeretur, forte cum Scoto 
quodam nobili, sibi antekac ut videbatur familiar iter cognito, 
congressus est ; ac ut fas erat inter inimicos, flagrante bello, 
brevissimd interrogationis mora interpositd, alterutros inmcem 
incitato cursu infestis animis petiere. Noster, prima occursu, 
equo pro, acerrimo hostis impetu labante, in terram eversus 
pectore et capite laso, sanguinem, mortuo similis, evomebat. 
Quern ut se agre habentem comiter allocutus est alter, pollici- 
tusque modo auxilium non abnegaret, monitisque obtemperans ab 
omni rerum sacrarum cogitatione abstineret, nee Deo, Deipara. 
Virgini, Sanctove ullo, preces aut vota efferret vel inter sese 
conciperet, se breti eum sanum validumque restiturum esse. 
Pre angore oblato conditio accepta est ; ac veterator ille nes- 
cio quid obscani murmuris insusurrans, prehensa manu, dicto ci- 
tius in pedes sanum ut antea sublevavit. Noster autem, maxi- 
ma pro. rei inaudita novitate formidine perculsus, Mi Jesu ! 
exclamat, vel quid simile ; ac subite respiciens nee hostem nee 
ullum alium conspicit, equum solum gravissimo nuper casu afflic- 
tum, per summam pacem in rivo fiuvii pascentem. Ad castra 



lxiv NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 

itaque mirabundus revertens, Jidei dubius, rem primo occulta** 
vit, dein confecto bello, Confessori suo totam asseruit. Deluso- 
ria procul dubio res tota, ac. mala veteratoris ilhus aperitur 
fraus, qua hominem Christianum ad vctitum tale auxilium pel- 
liceret. Nomen atcunque illius (nobilis alias ac clari) reti- 
cendum duco, cum haud dubium sit quin Diabolus, Deo permit- 
tente,formam quam libuerit, immo angeli lucis,sacro oculo Dei 
teste, posse assumere" The MS. chronicle from which Mr 
Cradocke took this curious extract, cannot now be found in the 
chapter library of Durham, or, at least, has hitherto escaped 
the researches of my friendly correspondent. 

Lindesay is made to allude to this adventure of Ralph Bul- 
mer, as a well-known story, in the 4th Canto, Stanza XXIL, 
p. 210. 

The northern champions of old were accustomed peculiarly 
to search for, and delight in, encounters with such military 
spectres. See a whole chapter on the subject in Bartholinus 
De Causis contempts Mortis a Danis, p. 253. 



NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 



Note I. 

Close to the hut, no more his own, 
Close to the aid he sought in vain, 
The morn may find the stiffened swain. — P. 175. 
I cannot help here mentioning, that, on the night in which 
these lines were written, suggested, as they were, by a sudden 
fall of snow, beginning after sunset, an unfortunate man perish- 
ed exactly in the manner here described, and his body was next 
morning found close to his own house. The accident happen- 
ed within five miles of the farm of Ashestiel. 

Note II. 
Scarce had lamented Forbes paid, &c. — P. 178. 
Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Baronet; unequalled, per- 
haps, in the degree of individual affection entertained for him 
e 



Ixvi NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 

by his friends, as well as in the general respect and esteem of 
Scotland at large. His " Life of Beattie," whom he befriend- 
ed and patronized in life, as well as celebrated after his de- 
cease, was not long published, before the benevolent and affec- 
tionate biographer was called to follow the subject of his narra- 
tive. This melancholy event very shortly succeeded the mar- 
riage of the friend, to whom this introduction is addressed, with 
one of Sir William's daughters. 

Note III. 
Friar Rush.—?. 187. 
This personage is a strolling demon, or esprit fillet, who, 
once upon a time, got admittance into a monastery as a scul- 
lion, and played the monks many pranks. He was also a sort 
of Robin Goodfellow, and Jack o' Lanthorn. It is in allusion 
to this mischievous demon that Milton's clown speaks, — 

She was pinched, and pulled, she said, 
And he by friar's lantliorn led. 

" The History of Friar Rush" is of extreme rarity, and, for 
some time, even the existence of such a book was doubted, al- 
though it is expressly alluded to by Reginald Scot, in his " Dis- 
covery of Witchcraft." I have perused a copy in the valuable 
library of my friend Mr Heber ; and I observe, from Mr Beloe's 
" Anecdotes of Literature," that there is one in the excellent 
collection of the Marquis of Stafford. 






NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Ixvii 



Note IV. 

Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 

Lord Lion King-ai-arms. — P. 195. 

The late elaborate edition of Sir David Lmdesay's Works, 

by Mr George Chalmers, has probably introduced him to 

many of my readers. It is perhaps to be regretted, that the 

learned editor had not bestowed more pains in elucidating 

his author, even although he should have omitted, or at least 

reserved, his disquisitions on the origin of the language used 

by the poet : * But, with all its faults, his work is an ac- 

* I beg leave to quote a single instance from a very interesting 
passage. Sir David, recounting his attention to King James V. 
in his infancy, is made, by the learned editor's punctuation, to 
say,— 

The first stllabis, that thou did mute, 
Was pa, da, lyn, upon the lute; 
Then playd I twenty springis perqueir, 
Quhilk was great plesour for to hear. 

Vol, I. p. 7. 257. 

Mr Chalmers does not inform us, by note, or glossary, what is 
meant by the king " muting pa, da lyn, upon the lute;''' but any 
Old woman in Scotland will bear witness, that pa, da, lyn, are the 
first efforts of a child to say, Whare's Davie Lindesay? and that 
the subsequent words begin another sentence, — 



upon the lute 



Then playd T twenty springis perqueir, &c. 

In another place, " justing lumis," i. e. looms, or implements of 
tilting, is facetiously interpreted " playful limbs." Many such 



lxviii NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 

ceptable present to Scottish antiquaries. Sir David Lindesay 
was well known for his early efforts in favour of the reformed 
doctrines ; and, indeed, his play, coarse as it now seems, must 
have had a powerful effect upon the people of his age. I am 
uncertain if I abuse poetical license, by introducing Sir David 
Lindesay in the character of Lion-Herald, sixteen years before 
he obtained that office. At any rate, I am not the first who 
has been guilty of the anachronism ; for the author of " Flod- 
den Field" dispatches Dallamount, which can mean nobody 
but Sir David de la Mont, to France, on the message of de- 
fiance from James IV. to Henry VIII. It was often an office 
imposed on the Lion King-at-arms, to receive foreign ambas- 
sadors ; and Lindesay himself did this honour to Sir Ralph 
Sadler in 1539-40. Indeed, the oath of the Lion, in its first 
article, bears reference to his frequent employment upon royal 
messages and embassies. 

The office of heralds, in feudal times, being held of the ut- 
most importance, the inauguration of the Kings-at-arms, who 
presided over their colleges, was proportionally solemn. In fact, 
it was the mimicry of a royal coronation, except that the unc- 
tion was made with wine instead of oil. In Scotland, a name- 
sake and kinsman of Sir David Lindesay, inaugurated in 1592, 
" was crowned by King James with the ancient crown of Scot- 
land, which was used before the Scottish kings assumed a close 
crown ;" and, on occasion of the same solemnity, dined at the 

minute errors could be pointed out; but these are only mentioned 
incidentally, and not as diminishing the real merit of the edition. 



NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. \x\x 

king's table, wearing the crown. It is probable, that the coro- 
nation of his predecessor was not less solemn. So sacred was 
the herald's office, that, in 1515, Lord Drummond was by par- 
liament declared guilty of treason, and his lands forfeited, be- 
cause he had struck, with his fist, the Lion King-at-arms, when 
he reproved him for his follies.* Nor was he restored, but at 
the Lion's earnest solicitation. 

Note V. 
Crichton'Castle.—P. 196. 
A large ruinous castle on the banks of the Tyne, about seven 
miles from Edinburgh. As indicated in the text, it was built 
at different times, and with a very differing regard to splen- 
dour and accommodation. The oldest part of the building is 
a narrow keep, or tower, such as formed the mansion of a les- 
ser Scottish baron ; but so many additions have been made to 
it, that there is now a large court-yard, surrounded by build- 
ings of different ages. The eastern front of the court is raised 
above a portico, and decorated with entablatures, bearing an- 
chors. All the stones of this front are cut into diamond facets, 
the angular projections of which have an uncommonly rich ap- 
pearance. The inside of this part of the building appears to 

. * The record expresses, or rather is said to have expressed, the 
cause of forfeiture to be, — " Eo quod Leonem, armorum Begem 
pugno violasset, dum cum, de ineptiis suis admonet."—-See Nisbet's 
Heraldry, Part IV. chap. 16. ; and Lesl^i Historia ad Annum 
1515. 



lxx NOTKS TO CANTO FOURTH. 

have contained a gallery of great length, and uncommon ele- 
gance. Access was given to it by a magnificent stair-case, now 
quite destroyed. The soffits are ornamented with twining cor- 
dage and rosettes; and the whole seems to have been far more 
splendid than was usual in Scottish castles. The castle be- 
longed originally to the Chancellor Sir William Crichton, and 
probably owed to him its first enlargement, as well as its being 
taken by the Earl of Douglas, who imputed to Crichton's 
counsels the death of his predecessor Earl William, beheaded 
in Edinburgh Castle, with his brother, in 1440. It is said to 
have been totally demolished on that occasion; but the pre- 
sent state of the ruins shews the contrary. In 1483, it was 
garrisoned by Lord Crichton, then its proprietor, against King 
James III., whose displeasure he had incurred by seducing his 
sister Margaret, in revenge, it is said, for the monarch having 
dishonoured his bed. From the Crichton family the castle 
passed to that of the Hepburns, Earls Bothwell ; and when the 
forfeitures of Stewart, the last Earl Bothwell, were divided, 
the barony and castle of Crichton fell to the share of the 
Earl of Buccleuch. They were afterwards the property of the 
Pringles of Clifton, and are now that of Sir John Callander, 
Baronet. It were to be wished the proprietor would take a 
little pains to preserve these splendid remains of antiquity, 
which are at present used as a fold for sheep, and wintering 
cattle ; although, perhaps, there are very few ruins in Scotland 
which display so well the stile and beauty of ancient castle- 
architecture. The castle of Crichton has a dungeon vault, cal- 



NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Ixxi 

led the Massy More. The epithet, which is not uncommonly 
applied to the prisons of other old castles in Scotland, is of Sa- 
racenic origin. It occurs twice in the Epistola Itineraries " 
of Tollius : " Career subterraneus, sive, ut Mauri appellant, 
Mazmorra," p. 147.; and again, " Coguntur omnes Captivi sub 
noctem in ergastula subterranea, qua, Turcce Algezerani vocant 
Mazmorras," p. 243. The same word applies to the dungeons 
of the ancient Moorish castles in Spain, and serves to shew 
from what nation the Gothic stile of castle-building was origi- 
nally derived. 

Note VI. 
Earl Adam Hepburn.— P. 199. 
He was the second Earl of Bothweli, and fell in the field of 
Flodden, where, according to an ancient English poet, he dis- 
tinguished himself by a furious attempt to retrieve the day: — 

Then on the Scottish part, right proud, 

The Earl of Bothweli then out brast, 

And stepping forth, with stomach good, 

Into the enemies throng he thrast : 
And Bothweli ! Bothweli! cried bold, 

To cause his souldiers to ensue, 
But there he caught a wellcome cold, 
The Englishmen straight down him threw. 
Flodden Field. 

Adam was grandfather to James, Earl of Bothweli, too well 
known in the history of Queen Mary. 



lxxii NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 

Note VII. 
For that a messenger from heaven, 
In vain to James had counsel given 
Against the English war. — P. 200. 

This story is toid by Pitscottie with characteristic simpli- 
city : " The king, seeing that France could get no support of 
him for that time, made a proclamation, full hastily, through 
all the realm of Scotland, both east and west, south and north, 
as well in the Isles as in the firm land, to all manner of man 
betwixt sixty and sixteen years, that they should be ready, 
within twenty days, to pass with him, with forty days victual, 
and to meet at the Burrow-muir of Edinburgh, and there to 
pass forward where he pleased. His proclamations were has- 
tily obeyed, contrary the Council of Scotland's will ; but every 
man loved his prince so well, that they would, on no ways, 
disobey him ; but every man caused make his proclamation so 
hastily, conform to the charge of the king's proclamation. 

" The king came to Lithgow, where he happened to be 
for the time at the Council, very sad and dolorous, making 
his devotion to God, to send him good chance and fortune in 
his voyage. In this mean time, there came a man clad in a 
blue gown in at the kirk-door, and belted about him in a roll 
of linen-cloth ; a pair of brotikings 1 on his feet, to the great 
of his legs; with all other hose and clothes conform there- 

1 Buskins. 



NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. lxxiii 

to; but he had nothing on his head, but syde 1 red yellow hair 
behind, and on his haffets, 2, which wan down to his shoulders; 
but his forehead was bald and bare. He seemed to be a <nan 
of two-and-fifty years, with a great pike-staff in his hand, and 
came first forward among the lords, crying and speiring 3 for 
the king, saying, he desired to speak with him. While, at the 
last, he came where the king was sitting in the desk at his 
prayers : but when he saw the king, he made him little reve- 
rence or salutation, but leaned down grofling on the desk be- 
fore him, and said to him in this manner, as after follows : 
' Sir king, my mother hath sent me to you, desiring you not to 
pass, at this time, where thou art purposed ; for if thou does, 
thou wilt not fare well in thy journey, nor none that passeth 
with thee. Further, she bade thee mell 4 with no woman, nor 
use their counsel, nor let them touch thy body, nor thou theirs; 
for, if thou do it, thou wilt be confounded and brought to 
shame/ 

" By this man had spoken thir words unto the king's grace, 
the evening song was near done, and the king paused on thir 
words, studying to give him an answer; but, in the mean time, 
before the king's eyes, and in the presence of all the lords that 
were about him for the time, this man vanished away, and 
could no ways be seen or comprehended, but vanished away as 
he had been a blink of the sun, or a whip of the whirlwind, and 
could no more be seen. I heard say, Sir David Lindesay, lyon- 

1 Long. 2 Cheeks. 3 Asking. 4 Meddle. 



lxxiv NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 

berauld, and John Inglis the marshal, who were, at that time, 
young men, and special servants to the king's grace, were 
standing presently beside the king, who thought to have laid 
hands on this man, that they might have speired further tidings 
at him : But all for nought ; they could not touch him ; for he 
vanished away betwixt them, and was no more seen." 

Buchanan, in more elegant, though not more impressive 
language, tells the same story, and quotes the personal infor- 
mation of our Sir David Lindesay : " In Us (i. e. qui propius 
astiterant) fuit David Lindesius, Montanus, homo spectata, 
jidei et probitatis, nee a Jiterarum studiis alienus, et cujus totius 
vita tenor lo?igissime a mentiendo aberrat ; a quo nisi ego hac 
uti tradidi, pro certis accepissem, ut vulgatam vanis rumoribus 
fabulam, omissurus eram" Lib. XITI. — The king's throne, in 
St Catherine's aisle, which he had constructed for himself, with 
twelve stalis for the Knights Companions of the Order of the 
Thistle, is still shewn as the place where the apparition was 
seen. I know not by what means St Andrew got the credit of 
having been the celebrated monitor of James IV.; for the ex- 
pression in Lindesay's narrative, " My mother has sent me," 
could only be used by St John, the adopted son of the Virgin 
Mary. The whole story is so well attested, that we have only 
the choice between a miracle or an imposture. Mr Pinkerton 
plausibly argues, from the caution against incontinence, that 
the queen was privy to the scheme of those who had recourse 
to this expedient, to deter King James from his impolitic war- 
fare. 



NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. lxxv 

Note VII. 

The wild buck bells.—?. 201. 
I am glad of an opportunity to describe the cry of the deer 
by another word than braying, although the latter has been 
sanctified by the use of the Scottish metrical translation of the 
Psalms. Bell seems to be an abbreviation of bellow. This 
sylvan sound conveyed great delight to our ancestors, chiefly, 
I suppose, from association. A gentle knight in the reign of 
Henry VIII., Sir Thomas Wortley, built Wantley Lodge, in 
Wancliffe Forest, for the pleasure (as an ancient inscription 
testifies,) of " listening to the hart's bell." 

Note VIII. 

June saw Ms father's overthrow. — P. 201. 
The rebellion against James III. was signalized by the cruel 
circumstance of his son's presence in the hostile army. When 
the king saw his own banner displayed against him, and his son 
in the faction of his enemies, he lost the little courage he ever 
possessed, fled out of the field, fell from his horse as it started 
at a woman and water pitcher, and was slain, it is not well un- 
derstood by whom. James IV., after the battle, passed to Stir- 
ling, and hearing the monks of the chapel-royal deploring the 
death of his father, their founder, he was seized with deep re- 
morse, which manifested itself in severe penances. See a fol- 
lowing Note on Canto V. The battle of Sauchie-burn, in which 
James III. fell, was fought 18th June, 1488. 



lxxvi NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 



Note IX. 

Spread all the Borough-Moor belozc, &c. — P. 213. 
The Borough, or Common Moor of Edinburgh, was of very 
great extent, reaching from the southern walls of the city to 
the bottom of Braid Hills. It was anciently a forest; and, in 
that state, was so great a nuisance, that the inhabitants of Edin- 
burgh had permission granted them of building wooden galle- 
ries, projecting over the street, in order to encourage them to 
consume the timber; which they seem to have done very ef- 
fectually. When James IV. mustered the array of the king- 
dom there, in 1513, the Borough-Moor was, according to Haw- 
thornden, " a field spacious, and delightful by the shade of 
many stately and aged oaks." Upon that, and similar occa- 
sions, the royal standard is traditionally said to have been dis- 
played from the Hare Stane, a high stone, now built into the 
wall, on the left hand of the high-way leading towards Braid, 
not far from the head of Bruntsfield-links. The Hare Stone 
probably derives its name from the British word Har, signify- 
ing an army. 

Note X. 

O'er the pavilions flew. — P. 216. 

I do not exactly know the Scottish mode of encampment in 

1513, but Patten gives a curious description of that which he 

saw after the battle of Pinkey, in 1 547 : — " Here now to say 

some what of the manner of their camp : As they had no pavi- 



NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. \xx\i\ 

lions, or round houses, of any commendable compas, so wear 
there few other tentes with posts, as the used maner of making 
is ; and of these few also, none of above twenty foot length, but 
most far under; for the most part all very sumptuously beset, 
(after their fashion,) for the love of France, with fleur-de-lys, 
some of blue buckeram, some of black, and some of some 
other colours. These white ridges, as I call them, that, as we v 
stood on Fauxside Bray, did make so great muster toward us, 
which I did take then to be a number of tentesj when we came, 
we found it a linnen drapery, of the coarser cambryk in dede, 
for it was all of canvas sheets, and wear the tenticles, or ra- 
ther cabayns and couches of their soldiers ; the which (much 
after the common building of their country beside) had they 
framed of four sticks, about an ell long a piece, whearof two 
fastened together at one end aloft, and the two endes beneath 
stuck in the ground, an ell asunder, standing in fashion like the 
bowes of a sowes yoke ; over two such bowes (one, as it were, 
at their head, the other at their feet,) they stretched a sheet 
down on both sides, whereby their cabin became roofed like a 
ridge, but skant shut at both ends, and not very close beneath 
on the sides, unless their sticks were the shorter, or their wives 
the more liberal to lend them larger napery ; howbeit, when 
they had lined them, and stuff'd them so thick with straw, with 
the weather as it was not very cold, when they were ones 
couched, they were as warm as they had been wrapt in horses 
dung." — Patten's Account of Somerset's Expedition. 



lxsviir NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 



Note XI. 
in proud Scotland's royal shield 



The ruddy Lion ramped in gold. — P. 217. 
The well-known arms of Scotland. If you will believe Boe- 
thius and Buchanan, the double tressure round the shield, men- 
tioned p. 193, counter fieur- de-Used or, lingued and armed 
azure, was first assumed by Achaius, King of Scotland, contem- 
porary of Charlemagne, and founder of the celebrated League 
with France ; but later antiquaries make poor Eochy or Achy 
little better than a sort of King of Brentford, whom old Grig 
(who has also swelled into Gregorius Magnus,) associated with 
himself in the important duty of governing some part of the 
north-eastern coast of Scotland. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 



Note I. 
Caledonia's Queen is changed. — P. 219. 
The Old Town of Edinburgh was secured on the noth side 
by a lake, now drained, and on the south by a wall, which there 
was some attempt to make defensible even so late as 1745. 
The gates, and the greater part of the wall, have been pulled 
down, in the course of the late extensive and beautiful enlarge- 
ment of the city. My ingenious and valued friend, Mr Thomas 
Campbell, proposed to celebrate Edinburgh under the epithet 
here borrowed. But the " Queen of the North" has not been 
so fortunate as to receive from so eminent a pen the proposed 
distinction. 

Note II. 

Flinging thy white arms to the sea. — P. 230. 
Since writing this line, I find I have inadvertently borrowed 
it almost verbatim, though with somewhat a different meaning, 
from a chorus in " Caractacus :" 

Britain heard the descant bold, 

She flung her white arms o'er the sea, 

Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold 
The freight of harmony. 



Ixxx NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 



Note III. 
Since first, when conquering York arose, 
To Henry meek she gave repose. — P. 233. 
Henry VI., with his queen, his heir, and the chiefs of his fa- 
mily, fled to Scotland after the fatal battle of Towton. In this 
note a doubt was formerly expressed, whether Henry VI came 
to Edinburgh, though his queen certainly did ; Mr Pinkerton 
inclining to believe that he remained at Kircudbright. But 
my noble friend, Lord Napier, has pointed out to me a grant 
by Henry, of an annuity of forty marks to his lordship's ances- 
tor, John Napier, subscribed by the King himself, at Edin- 
burgh, the 28th day of August, in the thirty-ninth year of his 
reign, which corresponds to the year of God 1461. This grant, 
Douglas, with his usual neglect of accuracy, dates in 1368. 
But this error being corrected from the copy in Macfarlane's 
MSS. p. 119, 120, removes all scepticism on the subject of 
Henry VI. being really at Edinburgh. John Napier was son 
and heir of Sir Alexander Napier, and about this time was 
Provost of Edinburgh. The hospitable reception of the dis- 
tressed Monarch and his family, called forth on Scotland the 
encomium of Molinet, a contemporary poet. The English 
people, he says, — 

Ung nouveau roy cr£erent, 

Par despiteux vouloir, 
Le vieil en debouterent, 

Et son legitime hoir, 
Qui fuytyf alia prendre 

D'Escosse" le gar and, 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. h 

De tous siecles le mendre, 
Et le plus tollerant. 

Recollection des Avantures. 

Note IV. 
the romantic strain, 



Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere 
Could win the Royal Henry's ear. — P. 234. 
Mr Ellis, in his valuable Introduction to the " Specimens of 
Romance," has proved, by the concurring testimony of La Ra- 
vaillere, Tressan, but especially the Abbe de la Rue, that the 
courts of our Anglo-Norman kings, rather than those of the 
French monarchs, produced the birth of romance literature. 
Marie, soon after mentioned, compiled from Armorican origi- 
ginals, and translated into Norman-French, or romance lan- 
guage, the twelve curious Lays, of which Mr Ellis has given us 
a precis in the Appendix to his Introduction. The story of 
Blondel, the famous and faithful minstrel of Richard I., needs 
no commentary. 

Note V. 

The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail. — P. 242. 
This is no poetical exaggeration. In some of the counties 
of England, distinguished for archery, shafts of this extraordi- 
nary length were actually used. Thus, at the battle of Black- 
heath, between the troops of Henry VII. and the Cornish in- 
surgents, in 1496, the Bridge of Dartford was defended by a 
f 



lxxxii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 

picked band of archers from the rebel army, " whose arrows," 
says Hollinshed, " were in length a full cloth-yard." The 
Scottish, according to Ascham, had a proverb, that every Eng- 
lish archer carried under his belt twenty-four Scots, in allusion 
to his bundle of unerring shafts. 

Note VI. 

| To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain, 
And high curvett, that not in vain 
The sword-sway might descend amain 
Onfoeman's casque below. — P. 243. 
" The most useful air, as the Frenchmen term it, is terri- 
terr ; the courbettes, cabrioles, or un pass et un sault, being 
fitter for horses of parade and triumph than for soldiers : yet I 
cannot deny but a demivolte with courbettes, so that they be 
not too high, may be useful in a fight or meslee ; for, as La- 
broue hath it, in his Book of Horsemanship, Monsieur de 
Montmorency having a horse that was excellent in performing 
the demivolte, did, with his sword, strike down two adversa- 
ries from their horses in a tourney, where divers of the prime 
gallants of France did meet; for, taking his time, when the 
horse was in the height of his courbette, and discharging a 
blow then, his sword fell with such weight and force upon the 
two cavaliers, one after another, that he struck them from their 
horses to the ground." — Lord Herbert of Cherbury's Life, 
p. 48. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. lxxxiii 



Note VII. 

He saw the hardy burghers there 
March armed, on foot, with faces hare. — P. 243, 
The Scottish burgesses were, like yeomen, appointed to be 
armed with bowes and sheaves, sword, buckler, knife, spear, or 
a good axe instead of a bow, if worth L. 100 : their armour to 
be of white or bright harness. They wore white hats, i. e. 
bright steel caps, without crest or visor. By an act of James 
IV., their weapon- shawings are appointed to be held four times 
a-year, under the aldermen or bailiffs. 

Note VIII. 

On foot the yeomen too. — P. 244. 
Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the peasan- 
try of Scotland, by repeated statutes; spears and axes seem 
universally to have been used instead of them. Their defen- 
sive armour was the plate-jack, hauberk, or brigantine ; and 
their missile weapons cross-bows and culverins. All wore 
swords of excellent temper, according to Patten ; and a vo- 
luminous handkerchief round their neck, " not for cold, but 
for cutting." The mace also was much used in the Scottish 
army : The old poem on the battle of Flodden, mentions a 
band — 



Who manfully did meet their foes, 
With leaden mauls, and lances long. 



Uxxiv NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 

When the feudal array of the kingdom was called forth, each 
man was obliged to appear with forty days provision. When 
this was expended, which took place before the battle of Flod- 
den, the army melted away of course. Almost all the Scottish 
forces, except a few knights, men-at-arms, and the Border- 
prickers, who formed excellent light cavalry, acted upon foot. 

Note IX. 

A banquet rich, and costly wines. — P. 250. 
In all transactions of great or petty importance, and among 
whomsoever taking place, it would seem, that a present of wine 
was an uniform and indispensible preliminary. It was not to 
Sir John Falstaff alone that such an introductory preface was 
necessary, however well judged and acceptable on the part of 
Mr Brook ; for Sir Ralph Sadler, while on embassy to Scot- 
land in 1539-40, mentions, with complacency, " the same night 
came Rothesay (the herald so called) to me again, and brought 
me wine from the king, both white and red." — Clifford's Edi- 
tion, p. 39. 

Note X. 

— his iron belt, 

That bound his breast in penance-pain, 
In memory of his father slain. — P. 254. 
Few readers need to be reminded of this belt, to the weight 
of which James added certain ounces every year that he lived. 
Pitscottie founds his belief, that James was not slain in the 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. lxxxv 

battle of Flodden, because the English never had this token 
of the iron-belt to shew to any Scottishman. The person and 
character of James are delineated according to our best histo- 
rians, His romantic disposition, which led him highly to re- 
lish gaiety, approaching to license, was, at the same time, tin- 
ged with enthusiastic devotion. These propensities sometimes 
formed a strange contrast. He was wont, during his fits of 
devotion, to assume the dress, and conform to the rules, of tbe 
order of Franciscans ; and when he had thus done penance for 
some time in Stirling, to plunge again into the tide of pleasure. 
Probably, too, with no unusual inconsistence, he sometimes 
laughed at the superstitious observances to which he at other 
times subjected himself. There is a very singular poem by 
Dunbar, seemingly addressed to James IV., on one of these 
occasions of monastic seclusion. It is a most daring and pro- 
fane parody on the services of the church of Rome, entitled, 



Dunbar's Dirige to the King, 
Byding ower lang in Striviling. 

We that are here, in heaven's glory, 
To you, that are in purgatory, 
Commend us on our hearty wise ; 
1 mean we folks in Paradise. 
In Edinburgh, with all merriness, 
To you in Stirling, with distress, 
Where neither pleasure nor delight is, 
For pity this epistle wrytis, &c. 



See the whole in Sibbald's Collection, Vol. I. p. 234. 



Ixxxvi NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 



Note XI. 



Sir Hugh the Helton's wife held sway. — P. 255. 
It has been already noticed, that King James' acquaintance 
with Lady Heron of Ford did not commence until he marched 
into England. Our historians impute to the king's infatuated 
passion the delays which led to the fatal defeat of Flodden. 
The author of " The Genealogy of the Heron Family" endea- 
vours, with laudable anxiety, to clear the Lady Ford from this 
scandal : that she came and went, however, between the armies 
of James and Surrey, is certain. See Pinkerton's History, 
and the authorities he refers to, Vol. II. p. 99. Heron of 
Ford had been, in 1511, in some sort, accessory to the slaugh- 
ter of Sir Robert Ker of Cessford, Warden of the Middle 
Marches. It was committed by his brother the bastard, Lil- 
burn, and Starked, three Borderers. Lilburn, and Heron of 
Ford, were delivered up by Henry to James, and were impri- 
soned in the fortress of Fastcastle, where the former died. 
Part of the pretence of Lady Ford's negotiations with James 
was the liberty of her husband. 

Note XII. 

For the fair Queen of France 
Sent him a Turquois ring, and glove, 
And charged him, as her knight and love, 
For her to break a lance. — P. 255. 
" Also the Queen of France wrote a love-letter to the Kins; 
of Scotland, calling him her love, shewing him that she had 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. lxxxvii 

suffered much rebuke in France for the defending of his ho- 
nour. She believed surely that he would recompense her again 
with some of his kingly support in her necessity ; that is to say, 
that he would raise her an army, and come three foot of ground 
on English ground, for her sake. To that effect she sent him a 
ring off her finger, with fourteen thousand French crowns to pay 
his expenses." Pitscottie, p. 110. — A turquois ring; — pro- 
bably this fatal gift is, with James's sword and dagger, preser- 
ved in the College of Heralds, London. 

Note XIII. 
Archibald Bell-t he-Cat.— P. 262. 
Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, a man remarkable for 
strength of body and mind, acquired the popular name of Bell- 
the-Cat, upon the following remarkable occasion : James the 
Third, of whom Pitscottie complains, that he delighted more 
in music, and " policies of building," than in hunting, hawking, 
and other noble exercises, was so ill advised, as to make favou- 
rites of his architects and musicians, whom the same historian 
irreverently terms masons and fiddlers. His nobility, who did 
not sympathise in the king's respect for the fine arts, were ex- 
tremely incensed at the honours conferred on these persons, 
particularly on Cochrane, a mason, who had been created Earl 
of Mar. And seizing the opportunity, when, in 1482, the king 
had convoked the whole array of the country to march against 
the English, they held a midnight council in the church of Lau- 
der, for the purpose of forcibly removing these minions from 



lxxxviii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 

the king's person. When all had agreed on the propriety of the 
measure, Lord Gray told the assembly the apologue of the 
Mice ; who had formed a resolution, that it would be highly 
advantageous to their community to tie a bell round the cat's 
neck, that they might hear her approach at a distance; but 
which public measure unfortunately miscarried, from no mouse 
being willing to undertake the task of fastening the bell. " I 
understand the moral," said Angus, " and, that what we pro- 
pose may not lack execution, I will bell the cat." The rest of 
the strange scene is thus told by Pitscottie: — j 

" By this was advised and spoken by thir lords foresaid, 
Cochran, the Earl of Mar, came from the king to the council, 
(which council was holden in the kirk of Lawder for the time,) 
who was well accompanied with a band of men of war, to the 
number of three hundred light axes, all clad in white livery, and 
black bends thereon, that they might be known for Cochran the 
Earl of Mar's men. Himself was clad in a riding pie of black 
velvet, with a great chain of gold about his neck, to the value 
of five hundred crowns, and four blowing horns, with both the 
ends of gold and silk, set with precious stone, called a berryl, 
hanging in the midst. This Cochran had his heumont horn be- 
fore him, overgilt with gold ; and so were all the rest of his 
horns, and all his pallions were of fine canvas of silk, and the 
cords thereof fine twisted silk, and the chains upon his pallions 
were double overgilt with gold. 

"This Cochran was so proud in his conceit, that he count- 
ed no lords to be marrows to him, therefore he rushed rudely 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. lxxxix 

at the kirk-door. The council enquired who it was that per- 
turbed them at that time. Sir Robert Douglas, laird of Loch- 
leven, was keeper of the kirk-door at that time, who enquired 
who that was that knocked so rudely ? and Cochran answer- 
ed, ' This is I, the Earl of Mar.' The which news pleased 
well the lords, because they were ready boun to cause take him, 
as is afore rehearsed. Then the Earl of Angus past hastily to 
the door, and with him Sir Robert Douglas of Lochleven, there 
to receive in the Earl of Mar and so many of his complices 
who were there, as they thought good. And the Earl of Angus 
met with the Earl of Mar, as he came in at the door, and pull- 
ed the golden chain from his craig, and said to him, a tow 1 would 
set him better. Sir Robert Douglas syne pulled the blowing- 
horn from him in like manner, and said, " He had been the 
hunter of mischief over long." This Cochran asked, " My lords, 
is it mows, 2, or earnest ?" They answered, and said, it is good 
earnest, and so thou shalt find : for thou and thy complices 
have abused our prince this long time ; of whom thou shalt 
have no more credence, but shall have thy reward according to 
thy good service, as thou hast deserved in times bypast ; right 
so the rest of thy followers. 

" Notwithstanding, the lords held them quiet till they caused 
certain armed men to pass into the king's pallion, and two or 
three wise men to pass with them, and give the king fair plea- 
sant words, till they laid hands on all the king's servants, and 

1 Rope. 2 Jest. 



xc NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 

took them and hanged them before his eyes over the bridge of 
Lawder. Incontinent they brought forth Cochran, and his 
hands bound with a tow, who desired them to take one of his 
own pallion-tows and bind his hands, for he thought shame to 
have his hands bound with such tow of hemp, like a thief. 
The lords answered, he was a traitor, he deserved no better ; 
and, for despighf, they took a hair tether, * and hanged him 
over the bridge of Lawder, above the rest of his complices." — 
Pitscottie, p. 78. folio edit. 

Note XIV. 
Against the war had Angus stood, 
And chafed his royal lord.—^P. 263. 
Angus was an old man when the war against England was 
resolved upon. He earnestly spoke against that measure from 
its commencement ; and, on the eve of the battle of Flodden, 
remonstrated so freely upon the impolicy of fighting, that the 
king said to him, with scorn and indignation, " if he was afraid, 
he might go home." The earl burst into tears at this insupport- 
able insult, and retired accordingly, leaving his sons, George, 
master of Angus, and Sir William of Glenbervie, to command 
his followers. They were both slain in the battle, with two 
hundred gentlemen of the name of Douglas. The aged earl, 
broken-hearted at the calamities of his house and his country, 
retired into a religious house, where he died about a year af- 
ter the field of Fiodden. 

1 Halter. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xci 

Note XV. 
Then rest you in Tantallon Hold. — P. 264. 
The ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high rock projecting 
into the German Ocean, about two miles east of North Ber- 
wick. The building is not seen till a close approach, as there is 
rising ground betwixt it and the land. The circuit is of large 
extent, fenced upon three sides by the precipice which over- 
hangs the sea, and on the fourth by a double ditch and very 
strong outworks. Tantallon was a principal castle of the 
Douglas family, and when the Earl of Angus was banished, in 
1527, it continued to hold out against James V. The king went 
in person against it, and, for its reduction, borrowed from the 
castle of Dunbar, then belonging to the Duke of Albany, two 
great cannons, whose names, as Pitscottie informs us with lau- 
dable minuteness, were "Thrawn-mouth'd Mow and her Mar- 
row f also, " two great botcards, and two moyan, two double 
falcons, and four quarter-falcons ;" for the safe guiding and re- 
delivery of which, three lords were laid in pawn at Dunbar. 
Yet, notwithstanding all this apparatus, James was forced to 
raise the siege, and only afterwards obtained possession of Tan- 
tallon by treaty with the governor, Simeon Panango. When 
the Earl of Angus returned from banishment, upon the death of 
James, he again obtained possession of Tantallon, and it actually 
afforded refuge to an English ambassador, under circumstances 
similar to those described in the text. This was no other than 
the celebrated Sir Ralph Sadler, who resided there for some 



xcii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 

time under Angus's protection, after the failure of his negocia- 
tion, for matching the infant Mary with Edward VI. He says, 
that though this place was poorly furnished, it was of such 
strength as might warrant him against the malice of his ene- 
mies, and that he now thought himself out of danger. 1 

There is a military tradition, that the old Scotch March was 
meant to express the words, 

Ding down Tantallon, 
Mak a Brig to the Bass. 

Tantallon was at length " dung down" and ruined by the Co- 
venanters ; its lord, the Marquis of Douglas, being a favourer 
of the royal cause. The castle and barony were sold in the 
beginning of the eighteenth century to President Dalrymple of 
North Berwick, by the then Marquis of Douglas. 

Note XVI. 
Their motto on his blade, — P. 264. 
A very ancient sword, in possession of Lord Douglas, bears, 
among a great deal of flourishing, two hands pointing to a heart, 
which is placed betwixt them, and the date 1329, being the 
year in which Bruce charged the Good Lord Douglas to carry 
his heart to the Holy Land. The following lines (the first cou- 



* The very curious State Papers of this able negociator, are 
shortly to be published by Mr Clifford, with some Notes, by the 
Author of Marmion. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xeiii 

plet of which is quoted by Godscroft as a popular saying in his 
time) are inscribed around the emblem : 

So mony guid as of ye Dovglas beinge, 
Of ane surname was ne'er in Scotland seine. 

I will ye charge, efter yat I depart, 
To holy grawe, and thair bury my hart; 
Let it remane ever bothe tyme and howr, 
To ye last day I see my Saviour. 

I do protest in tyme of all my ringe, 
Ye lyk subject had never ony keing. 

This curious and valuable relique was nearly lost during the ci- 
vil war of 1745-6, being carried away from Douglas-Castle by 
some of those in arms for Prince Charles. But great interest 
having been made by the Duke of Douglas among the chief 
partizans of Stuart, it was at length restored. It resembles a 
Highland claymore, of the usual size, is of an excellent temper, 
and admirably poised. 

Note XVII. 
Martin Swart.—?. 273. 
The name of this German general is preserved by that of the 
field of battle, which is called, after him, Swart-moor. There 
were songs about him long current in England. — See Disserta- 
tion prefixed to Rjtson's Ancient Songs, 1792, page lxi. 



NGTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 



Note XVIIL 

Perchance some form was unobserved, 
Perchance in point of faith he swerved. — P. 274. 
It was early necessary for those who felt themselves obliged 
to believe in the divine judgment being enunciated in the trial 
by duel, to find salvos for the strange and obviously precarious 
chances of the combat, Various curious evasive shifts, used 
by those who took up an unrighteous quarrel, were supposed 
sufficient to convert it into a just one. Thus, in the romance 
of " Amys and Amelion," the one brother-in-arms, fighting for 
the other, disguised in his armour, swears that he did not com- 
mit the crime of which the Steward, his antagonist, truly, 
though maliciously, accused him whom he represented. Bran- 
tome tells a story of an Italian, who entered the lists upon an 
unjust quarrel, but, to make his cause good, fled from his ene- 
my at the first onset. " Turn, coward !" exclaimed his antago- 
nist; "Thou liest," said the Italian, "coward am I none; and 
in this quarrel will I fight to the death, but my first cause of 
combat was unjust, and I abandon it." " Je vous laisse a 
penser," adds Brantome " sHl ny a pas de Vabus la? Else- 
where he says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which those 
who had a righteous cause entertained of victory; " Un autre 
abus y avoit-il, que ceux qui avoient un juste subjet de querelle, 
et qu'on lesfaisoitjurer avant entrer au camp, pensoient estre 
aussitost vainqueurs, voire s'en assuroient-t-ils du tout, mesmes 
que leurs confesseurs, parrains et confidants leurs en respon- 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xcr 

doient tout-a-Jait, comme si Dieu leur en eust donne une pa- 
tente ; et ne regardant point a oVautres f antes passees, et que 
Dieu en garde la punition a ce coup la pour plus grande, despi- 
teuse, et exemplaire."—D\scoms sur les Duels. 

Note XIX. 
Dun-Edinh C?wss. — P. 279. 

The Cross of Edinburgh was an ancient and curious struc- 
ture. The lower part was an octagonal tower, sixteen feet in 
diameter, and about fifteen feet high. At each angle there was a 
pillar, and between them an arch, of the Grecian shape. Above 
these was a projecting battlement, with a turret at each corner, 
and medallions, of rude but curious workmanship, between 
them. Above this rose the proper Cross, a column of one 
stone, upwards of twenty feet high, surmounted with an uni- 
corn. This pillar is preserved at the House of Drum, near 
Edinburgh. The Magistrates of Edinburgh, in 1756, with con- 
sent of the Lords of Session, {proh pudor !) destroyed this cu- 
rious monument, under a wanton pretext, that it encumbered 
the street ; while, on the one hand, they left an ugly mass, cal- 
led the Luckenbooths, and, on the other, an awkward, long, and 
low guard-house, which were fifty times more encumbrance than 
the venerable and inoffensive Cross. 

From the tower of the Cross, so long as it remained, the 
heralds published the acts of Parliament ; and its scite, mark- 
ed by radii, diverging from a stone centre, in the High Street, 
is still the place where proclamations are made. 



i 



xciv NGTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 



Note XVITL 

Perchance some form was unobserved, 
Perchance in point of faith he swerved. — P. 2f4. 
It was early necessary for those who felt themselves obliged 
to believe in the divine judgment being enunciated in the trial 
by duel, to find salvos for the strange and obviously precarious 
chances of the combat, Various curious evasive shifts, used 
by those who took up an unrighteous quarrel, were supposed 
sufficient to convert it into a just one. Thus, in the romance 
of " Amys and Amelion," the one brother-in-arms, fighting for 
the other, disguised in his armour, swears that he did not com- 
mit the crime of which the Steward, his antagonist, truly, 
though maliciously, accused him whom he represented. Bran- 
tome tells a story of an Italian, who entered the lists upon an 
unjust quarrel, but, to make his cause good, fled from his ene- 
my at the first onset. " Turn, coward !" exclaimed his antago- 
nist; "Thou liest," said the Italian, "coward am I none; and 
in this quarrel will I fight to the death, but my first cause of 
combat was unjust, and I abandon it." " Je vous laisse a 
penser," adds Brantome " s'il ny a pas de Vahus la." Else- 
where he says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which those 
who had a righteous cause entertained of victory ; " TJn autre 
abus y avoit-il, que ceux qui avoient un juste subjet de querelle, 
et qu'on lesfaisoit jurer avant entrer au camp, pensoient estre 
aussitost vainqueurs, voire s'en assuroient-t-ils du tout, mesmes 
que leurs confesseurs, parrains et confidants leurs en respon- 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xcy 

doient tout-a-fait, comme si Dieu leur en eust donne une pa- 
tente ; et ne regardant point a d'autres f allies passees, et que 
Dieu en garde la punition a ce coup la pour plus grande, despi- 
teuse, et exemplaire. v —<D\scows sur les Duels. 

Note XIX. 
Dun-Edin's Cross.— P. 279. 

The Cross of Edinburgh was an ancient and curious struc- 
ture. The lower part was an octagonal tower, sixteen feet in 
diameter, and about fifteen feet high. At each angle there was a 
pillar, and between them an arch, of the Grecian shape. Above 
these was a projecting battlement, with a turret at each corner, 
and medallions, of rude but curious workmanship, between 
them. Above this rose the proper Cross, a column of one 
stone, upwards of twenty feet high, surmounted with an uni- 
corn. This pillar is preserved at the House of Drum, near 
Edinburgh. The Magistrates of Edinburgh, in 1756, with con- 
sent of the Lords of Session, (proh pudor /) destroyed this cu- 
rious monument, under a wanton pretext, that it encumbered 
the street ; while, on the one hand, they left an ugly mass, cal- 
led the Luckenbooths, and, on the other, an awkward, long, and 
low guard-house, which were fifty times more encumbrance than 
the venerable and inoffensive Cross. 

From the tower of the Cross, so long as it remained, the 
heralds published the acts of Parliament ; and its scite, mark- 
ed by radii, diverging from a stone centre, in the High Street, 
is still the place where proclamations are made. 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 



Note XX. 
This awful summons came. — P. 281 
This supernatural citation is mentioned by all our Scottish 
historians. It was probably, like the apparition at Linlithgow, 
an attempt, by those averse to the war, to impose upon the su- 
perstitious temper of James IV. The following account from 
Pitscottie is characteristically minute, and furnishes, besides, 
some curious particulars of the equipment of the army of 
James IV. I need only add to it, that Plotcock, or Plutock, is 
no other than Pluto. The Christians of the middle ages by no 
means disbelieved in the existence of the heathen deities ; they 
only considered them as devils;* and Plotcock, so far from 
implying any thing fabulous, was a synonyme of the grand ene- 
my of mankind. " Yet all thir warnings, and uncouth tidings, 
nor no good counsel, might stop the king, at this present, from 
his vain purpose, and wicked enterprise, but hasted him fast 

* See, on this curious subject, the Essay on Fairies, in the 
*' Border Minstrelsy," Vol. II. under the fourth head ; also Jack- 
son on Unbelief, p. 175. Chaucer calls Pluto the " King of 
Faerie ;" and Dunbar names him " Pluto, that elrich incubus." 
If he was not actually the devil, he must be considered as the 
" prince of the power of the air." The most remarkable in- 
stance of these surviving classical superstitions, is that of the Ger- 
mans, concerning the Hill of Venus, into which she attempts to 
entice all gallant knights, and detains them in a sort of Fools' Pa- 
radise. 

4 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xcvii 

to Edinburgh, and there to make his provision and furnishing, 
in having forth of his army against the day appointed, that 
they should meet in the Burrow-muir of Edinburgh : That is 
to say, seven cannons that he had forth of the Castle of Edin- 
burgh, which were called the Seven Sisters, casten by Robert 
Borthwick, the master-gunner, with other small artillery, bul- 
let, powder, and all manner of order, as the master-gunner 
could devise. 

" In this mean time, when they were taking forth their ar- 
tillery, and the king being in the Abbey for the time, there was 
a cry heard at the Market-cross of Edinburgh, at the hour of 
midnight, proclaiming as it had been a summons, which was 
named and called by the proclaimer thereof, The Summons of 
Plotcock ; which desired all men to compear, both Earl, and 
Lord, and Baron, and all honest gentlemen within the town, 
(every man specified by his own name,) to compear, within the 
space of forty days, before his master, where it should happen 
him to appoint, and be for the time, under the pain of diso- 
bedience. But whether this summons was proclaimed by vain 
persons, night-walkers, or drunken men, for their pastime, or 
if it was a spirit, I cannot tell truly ; but it was shewn to me, 
that an indweller of the town, Mr Richard Lawson, being evil- 
disposed, ganging in his gallery-stair foreanent the cross, hear- 
ing this voice proclaiming this summons, thought marvel what 
it should be, cried on his servant to bring him his purse; and 
when he had brought him it, he took out a crown, and cast 
over the stair, saying, I appeal from that summons, judgment, 



m^^m^^^^aa^^^^m 



xcviii NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 

and sentence thereof, and takes me all whole in the mercy of 
God, and Christ Jesus his Son. Verily the author of this, that 
caused me write the manner of the summons, was a landed 
gentleman, who was at that time twenty years of age, and was 
in the town the time of the said summons ; and thereafter, 
when the field was stricken, he swore to me, there was no man 
that escaped that was called in this summons, but that one 
man alone which made his protestation, and appealed from 
the said summons ; hut all the lave were perished in the field 
with the king." 

Note XX. 

Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while^ 

'Before a venerable pile. — P. 286. 
The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns, 
near North Berwick, of which there are still some remains. It 
was founded by Duncan, Earl of Fife, in 1216. 

Note XXI. 

That one of his own ancestry 
Drove the Monks forth of Coventry. — P. 290. 
This relates to the catastrophe of a real Robert de Marmion, 
in the reign of King Stephen, whom William of Newbury de- 
scribes with some attributes of my fictitious hero : " Homo 
bellicosus, ferocia, et astucia, fere nullo suo tempore imparl 
This Baron, having expelled the monks from the church of 
Coventry, was not long of experiencing the divine judgment. 

10 



NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. xcix 

as the same monks no doubt termed Ins disaster. Having 
waged a feudal war with the Earl of Chester, Marmion's horse 
fell, as he charged in the van of his troop, against a body of 
the Earl's followers : the rider's thigh being broken by the fall, 
his head was cut off by a common foot-soldier, ere he could 
receive any succour. The wholy story is told by William of 
Newbury. 






MMH^tf 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 



Note I* 
the savage Dane 



At lol more deep the mead did drain. — P. 299. 
The lol of the heathen Danes, (a word still applied to Christ- 
mas in Scotland,) was solemnized with great festivity. The 
humour of the Danes at table displayed itself in pelting each 
other with bones ; and Torfaeus tells a long and curious story 
in the history of Hrolfe-Kraka, of one Hottus, an inmate of 
the court of Denmark, who was so generally assailed with 
these missiles, that he constructed, out of the bones with 
which he was overwhelmed, a very respectable entrenchment, 
against those who continued the raillery. The dances of the 
northern warriors round the great fires of pine-trees are com- 
memorated by Olaus Magnus, who says, they danced with 
such fury, holding each other by the hands, that, if the grasp 
of any failed, he was pitched into the fire with the velocity of 
a sling. The sufferer, on such occasions, was instantly pluck- 
ed out, and obliged to quaff off a certain measure of ale, as a 
penalty for "spoiling the king's fire." 



Mfl 



cii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

Note' II. 

On Christmas eve the mass was sung. — P. 300. 

In Roman Catholic countries, mass is never said at night, 
excepting on Christmas eve. Each of the frolics with which 
that holiday used to be celebrated, might admit of a long and 
curious note ; but I shall content myself with the following 
description of Christmas, and his attributes, as personified in 
one of Ben Jonson's Masques for the Court. 

" Enter Christmas, with two or three of the Guard. He 
is attired in round hose, long stockings, a close doublet, a high- 
crowned hat, with a broach, a long thin beard, a truncheon, 
little ruffs, white shoes, his scarfs and garters tied cross, and 
his drum beaten before him. — 

" The names of his children, with their attires. 

" Miss-Rule, in a velvet cap, with a sprig, a short cloak, 
great yellow ruff, like a reveller; his torch-bearer bearing a 
rope, a cheese, and a basket. 

" Caroll, a long tawny coat, with a red cap, and a flute at 
his girdle ; his torch-bearer carrying a song-book open. 

" Mincd-pie, like a fine cook's wife, drest neat, her man 
carrying a pie, dish, and spoons. 

" Gamboll, like a tumbler, with a hoop and bells ; his torch- 
bearer arm'd with cole-staff, and blinding cloth. 

" Post and Pair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat, his 
garment all done over with pairs and purs ; his squire carrying 
a box, cards, and counters. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. ciii 

u Nezo~y ear's- gift, in a blue coat, serving-man like, with an 
©range, and a sprig of rosemary gilt on his head, his hat full of 
broaches, with a collar of gingerbread ; his torch-bearer carry- 
ing a march-pain, with a bottle of wine on either arm. 

" Mumming, in a masquing pied suit, with a vizor ; his torch- 
bearer carrying the box, and ringing it. 

" Wassail, like a neat sempster and songster ; her page bear- 
ing a brown bowl, drest with ribbands, and rosemary, before 
her. 

" Offering, in a short gown, with a porter's staff in his hand ; 
a wyth borne before him, and a bason, by his torch-bearer. 

" Baby Cocke, drest like a boy, in a fine long coat, biggin, 
bib, muckender, and a little dagger ; his usher bearing a great 
cake, with a bean and a pease ." 

Note III. 
Wh~o lists, may in their mumming spy 
Traces of ancient mystery. — P. 303. 
It seems certain, that the Mummers of England, who (in 
Northumberland at least) used to go about in disguise to the 
neighbouring houses, bearing the then useless ploughshare; and 
the Guisards of Scotland, not yet in total disuse, present, ia 
some indistinct degree, a shadow of the old mysteries, which 
were the origin of the English drama. In Scotland, (me ipso 
teste,) we were wont, during my boy-hood, to take the cha- 
racters of the apostles, at least of Peter, Paul, and Judas Is- 
cariot ; the first had the keys, the second carried a sword, and 
the last the bag, in which the dole of our neighbours' plumb-cake 



civ NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

■was deposited. One played a Champion, and recited some tra- 
ditional rhymes ; another was 

Alexander, kirg of IViacedon, 

Who conquered all the world but Scotland alone ; 
When he came to Scotland his courage grew cold, 
To see a little nation couiageous and bold. 

These, and many such verses, were repeated, but by rote, and 
unconnectedly. There was also occasionally, I believe, a Saint 
George. In all there was a confused resemblance of the an- 
cient mysteries, in which the characters of scripture, the Nine 
Worthies, and other popular personages, were usually exhibited. 
It were much to be wished, that the Chester Mysteries were 
published from the MS. in the Museum, with the annotations 
which a diligent investigator of popular antiquities might still 
supply. The late acute and valuable antiquary, Mr Ritson, 
showed me several memoranda towards such a task, which are 
probably now dispersed or lost. See, however, his Remarks on 
Shakespeare, 1783, p. 38. — Since the quarto edition of Mar- 
mion appeared, this subject has received much elucidation 
from the learned and extensive labours of Mr Douce. 

Note IV. 
Where my great- grandsire came of old, 
With amber beard and flaxen hair, — P. 304. 
Mr Scott of Harden, my hind and affectionate friend, and dis- 
tant relation, has the original of a poetical invitation, addressed 
from his grandfather to my relative, from which a few lines in 
the text are imitated. They are dated, as the epistle in the 
text, from Mertoun-hcuse, the seat of the Harden family. 



notes to canto sixth. 

" With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 

And reverend apostolic air, 

Free of anxiety and care, 

Come hither, Christmas-day, and dine; 

We'Jl mix sobriety with wine, 

And easy mirth with thoughts divine. 

We Christians think it holiday, 

On it no sin to feast or play; 

Others, in spite, may fast and pray. 

IV o superstition in the use 

Cor ancestors made of a goose; 

Why may not we, as well as they, 

Be innocently blithe that day, 

On goose or pye, on wine or ale, 

And scorn enthusiastic zeal ? — 

Pray come, and welcome, cr plague rott 

Your friend and landlord, Waiter Scott/' 



Mr Walter Scott, Lessuddett. 



The venerable old gentleman, to whom the lines are addres- 
sed, was the younger brother of William Scott of Reaburn. 
Being the cadet of a cadet of the Harden family, he had very 
little to lose ; yet he contrived to lose the small property he 
had, by engaging in the civil wars and intrigues of the house of 
Stuart. His veneration for the exiled family was so great, that 
he swore he would not shave his beard till they were restored : 
a mark of attachment, which, I suppose, had been common 
during Cromwell's usurpation; for, in Cowley's "Cutter of 
Coleman Street," one drunken cavalier upbraids another, that, 
when he was not able to afford to pay a barber, he affected to 
a wear a beard for the king." I eincerely hope this was not 



evi NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

absolutely the original reason of my ancestor's beard ; which, 
as appears from a portrait in the possession of Sir Henry Hay 
Macdougal, Bart., and another painted for the famous Dr Pit- 
cairn, 1 was a beard of a most dignified and venerable appear- 
ance. 

Note V. 
The spirit's Blasted Tree.— P. 307. 

I am permitted to illustrate this passage, by inserting " Ceu- 
bren yr Ellyll, or the Spirit's Blasted Tree," a legendary tale, 
by the Reverend George Warrington : 

" The event, on which this tale is founded, is preserved by 
tradition in the family of the Vaughans of Hengwyrt ; nor is 
it entirely lost, even among the common people, who still point 
out this oak to the passenger. The enmity between the two 
Welsh chieftains, Howel Sele, and Owen Glendwr, was ex- 
treme, and marked by vile treachery in the one, and ferocious 
cruelty in the other. 2r The story is somewhat changed and 
softened, as more favourable to the characters of the two chiefs, 
and as better answering the purpose of poetry, by admitting the 
passion of pity, and a greater degree of sentiment in the de- 



1 The old gentleman was an intimate of this celebrated genius. 
By the favour of the late Earl of Kelly, descended on the mater- 
nal side from Dr Pitcairn, my father became possessed of the 
portrait in question. 

x The history of their feud may be found in Pennant's Tour in 
Wales. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cvii 

scription. Some trace of Howel Sele's mansion was to be seen 
a few years ago, and may perhaps be still visible, in the park 
of Nannau, now belonging to Sir Robert Vaughan, Baronet, in 
the wild and romantic tracts of Merionethshire. The abbey 
mentioned passes under two names, Vener and Cymmer. The 
former is retained, as more generally used. 

THE SPIRIT'S BLASTED TREE. 

Ceubren yr Ellyll. 
% Through Nannau's Chace as Howel passed, 
A chief esteemed both brave and kind, 
Far distant borne, the stag-hound's cry 
Came murmuring on the hollow wind. 

Starting, he bent an eager ear, — 

How should the sounds return again ? 
His hounds lay wearied from the chace, 

And all at home his hunter train. 

Then sudden anger flashed his eye, 

And deep revenge he vowed to take, 
On that bold man who dared to force 

His red deer from the forest brake. 

Unhappy chief ! would nought avail, 

No signs impress thy heart with fear, 
Thy lady's dark mysterious dream, 

Thy warning from the hoary seer ? 

Three ravens gave the note of death, 

As through mid air they winged their way ; 

Then o'er his head, in rapid flight, 

They croak, — they scent their destined prey. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

Ill omened bird ! as legends say, 

Who hast the wonderous power to know, 
"While henlth fills high the throbbing veins, 

The fated hour when blood must flow. 

Blinded by rage, alone he passed, 
Nor sought his ready vassals' aid; 

But what his fate lay long unknown, 
For many an anxious year delayed. 

A peasant marked his angry eye, 

He saw him reach the lake's dark bourne, 
lie saw him near a Blasted Oak, 

But never from that hour return. 

Three days passed o'er, no tidings came ;— 
Where should the chief his steps delay? 

With wild alarm the servants ran. 

Yet knew not where to point their way. 

His vassals ranged the mountain's height, 
The covert close, and wide-spread plain; 

But all in vain their eager search, 
They ne'er must see their lord again. 

Yet Fancy, in a thousand shapes, 

Bore to his home the Chief once more : 

Some saw him on high Mod's top, 
Some saw him on the winding shore. 

With wonder fraught the tale went round, 
Amazement chained the hearer's tongue; 

Each peasant felt his own sad loss, 
Yet fondly o'er the story hung. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

Oft by the moon's pale shadowy light, 
His aged nurse, and steward grey, 

Would lean to catch the storied sounds, 
Or mark the flitting spirit stray. 

Pale lights on Cader's rocks were seen, 
And midnight voices heard to moan j 

'Twas even said the Blasted Oak, 
Convulsive, heaved a hollow groan : 

And, to this day, the peasant still, 

With cautious fear, avoids the ground ; 

In each wild branch a spectre sees, 
And trembles at each rising sound. 

Ten annual suns had held their course, 
In summer's smile, or winter's storm; 

The lady shed the widowed tear, 
As oft she traced his manly form. 

Yet still to hope her heart would cling, 
As o'er the mind illusions play,— 

Of travel fond, perhaps her lord 

To distant lands had steered his way. 

'Twas now November's cheerless hour, 
Which drenching rains and clouds deface; 

Dreary bleak Robell's tract appeared, 
And dull and dank each valley's space. 

Loud o'er the wier the hoarse flood fell, 
And dashed the foamy spray on high ; 

The west wind bent the forest tops, 
And angry frowned the evening sky. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

A stranger passed Llanelltid's bourne, 
His dark-grey steed with sweat besprent, 

Which, wearied with the lengthened way, 
Could scarcely gain the hill's ascent. 

The portal reached, — the iron bell 

Lound sounded round the outward wall; 

Quick sprang the warder to the gate, 
To know what meant the clamorous call. 

" O ! lead me to your lady soon ; 

Say, — it is my sad lot to tell, 
To clear the fate of that brave knight, 

She long has proved she loved so well." 

Then, as he crossed the spacious hall, 
The menials look surprise and fear; 

Still o'er his harp Old Modred hung, 

And touched the notes for grief's worn ear. 

The lady sat amidst her train ; 

A mellowed sorrow marked her look : 
Then, asking what his mission meant, 

The graceful sti anger sighed and spoke : — 

" O could I spread one ray of hope, 
One moment raise thy soul from woe, 

Gladly my tongue would tell its tale, 
My words at ease unfettered flow ! 

" Now, lady, give attention due, 

The story claims thy full belief: 
E'en in the worst events of life, 

Suspense removed is some relief. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

" Though worn by care, see Madoc here, 
Great Glyndwr's friend, thy kindred's foe ; 

Ah, let his name no anger raise, 
For now that mighty Chief lies low ! 

" E'en from the day, when, chained by fate, 
By wizard's dream or potent spell, 

Lingering from sad Salopia's field, 
'Reft of his aid the Percy fell ; — 

" E'en from that day misfortune still, 

As if for violated faith, 
Pursued him with unwearied step, 

Vindictive still for Hotspur's death. 

" Vanquished at length, the Glyndwr fled 
Where winds the Wye her devious flood ; 

To find a casual shelter there, 
In some lone cot, or desert wood. 

" Clothed in a shepherd's humble guise, 
He gained by toil his scanty bread ; 

He who had Cambria's sceptre borne, 
And her brave sons to glory led ! 

" To penury extreme, and grief, 
The Chieftain fell a lingering prey ; 

I heard his last few faultering words, 
Such as with pain I now convey. 

1 To Sele's sad widow bear the tale, 
' Nor let our horrid secret rest ;• 

* Give but his corse to sacred earth, 
' Then may my parting soul be blest,'— 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH, 

*' Dim waxed the eye that fiercely shone, 
And faint the tongue that proudly spoke* 

And weak that arm, still raised to me, 
Which oft had dealt the mortal stroke, 

'" How could I then his mandate bear I 

Or how his last behest obey ? 
A rebel deemed, with him I fled ; 

With him I shunned the light of day. 

f Proscribed by Henry's hostile rage, 
My country lost, despoiled my land,, 

Desperate, I fled my native soil, 
And fought on Syria's distant strand. 

" O, had thy long lamented lord 
The holy cross and banner viewed, 

Died in the sacred cause I who fell 
Sad victim of a private feud I. 

" Led, by the ardour of the chace, 
Far distant from his own domain ; 

From where Garthmaelan spreads her shades, 
The Glyndwr sought the opening plain, 

*' With head aloft, and antlers wide, 

A red buck roused then crossed in view 5 

Stung with the sight, and wild with rage, 
Swift from the wood fierce Howel flew- 

" With bitter taunt, and keen reproach, 
He, all impetuous, poured his rage, 

Reviled the Chief as weak in arms, 
And bade him loud the battle wage. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxiii 

w Glyndwr for once restrained his sword, 

And, still averse, the fight delays ; 
But softened words, like oii to fire, 

Made anger more intensely blaze. 

" They fought; and doubtful long the fray ! 

The Glyndwr gave the fatal wound! 
Still mournful must mv tale proceed, 

And it's last act all dreadful sound. 

" How could we hope for wished retreat, 

His eager vassals ranging wide ? 
His bloodhounds' keen sagacious scent, 

O'er many a trackless mountain tried ? 

" I marked a broad and Blasted Oak, 

Scorched by the lightning's livid glare j 
Hollow its stem from branch to root, 

And all its shrivelled arms were bare. 

" Be this, I cried, his proper grave ! — 

(The thought in me was deadly sin.) 
Aloft we raised the hapless Chief, 

And dropped his bleeding corpse within." 

A shriek from all the damsels burst, 

That pierced the vaulted roofs below ; 
While horror-struck the Lady stood, 

A living form of sculptured woe. 

With stupid stare, and vacant gaze, 

Full on his face her eyes were cast, 
Absorbed ! — siie lost her present grief, 

And faintly thought of things long past. 

h 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

Like wild-fire o'er a mossy heath, 
The rumour through the hamlet ran; 

The peasants crowd at morning dawn, 
To hear the tale, — behold the man. 

He led them near the Blasted Oak, 

Then, conscious, from the scene withdrew :• 

The peasants work with trembling haste, 
And lay the whitened bones to view !— 

Back they recoiled ! — the right hand still, 
Contracted, grasped a rusty sword; 

Which erst in many a battle gleamed, 
And proudly decked their slaughtered lord. 

They bore the corse to Vener's shrine, 
With holy rites, and prayers addressed ; 

Nine white-robed monks the last dirge sang, 
And gave the Angry Spirit rest. 

Note VI. 

The Highlander-' 



Will on a Friday morn look pale 
If asked to tell a fairy tale. — P. 307. 
The Daoine shi\ or Men of Peace, of the Scottish Highland- 
ers, rather resemble the Scandinavian Duergar than the Eng- 
lish Fairies. Notwithstanding their name, they are, if not ab- 
solutely malevolent, at least peevish, discontented, and apt to 
do mischief on slight provocation. The belief of their existence 
is deeply impressed on the Highlanders, who think they are 
particularly offended with mortals, who talk of them, who wear 



13 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxv 

their favourite colour green, or in any respect interfere with 
their affairs. This is especially to be avoided on Friday, when, 
whether as dedicated to Venus, with whom, in Germany, this 
subterraneous people are held nearly connected, or for a more 
solemn reason, they are more active, and possessed of greater 
powers. Some curious particulars concerning the popular su- 
perstitions of the Highlanders, may be found in Dr Graham's 
Picturesque Sketches of Perthshire. 

Note VII. 
The Towers of Franchemont. — P. 308. 

The journal of the friend, to whom the Fourth Canto of the 
poem is inscribed, furnished me with the following account of 
a striking superstition. 

" Passed the pretty little village of Franchemont, (near Spaw,) 
with the romantic ruins of the old castle of the Counts of that 
name. The road leads through many delightful vales, on a ri- 
sing ground ; at the extremity of one of them stands the an- 
cient castle, now the subject of many superstitious legends. It 
is firmly believed by the neighbouring peasantry, that the last 
Baron of Franchemont deposited, in one of the vaults of the 
castle, a ponderous chest, containing an immense treasure in 
gold and silver, which, by some magic spell, was entrusted to 
the care of the devil, who is constantly found sitting on the 
chest in the shape of a huntsman. Any one adventurous enough 
to touch the chest, is instantly seized with the palsy. Upon one 
occasion, a priest of noted piety was brought to the vault : he 



cxvi NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH, 

used all the arts of exorcism to persuade his infernal majesty 
to vacate the seat, but in vain ; the huntsman remained im- 
moveable. At last, moved by the earnestness of the priest, he 
told him, that he would agree to resign the chest, if the exor- 
ciser would sign his name with blood. But the priest under- 
stood his meaning, and refused, as by that act he would have 
delivered over his soul to the devil. Yet if any body can dis- 
cover the mystic words used by the person who deposited the 
treasure, and pronounce them, the fiend must instantly decamp. 
I had many stories of a similar nature from a peasant, who had 
himself seen the devil, in the shape of a great cat." 

Note VIII. 
The very form of Hilda fair, 
Hovering upon the sunny air. — P. 321. 
" I shall only produce one instance more of the great vene- 
ration paid to Lady Hilda, which still prevails even in these our 
days ; and that is, the constant opinion that she rendered, and 
still renders, herself visible, on some occasions, in the abbey of 
Streanshalh, or Whitby, where she so long resided. At a par- 
ticular time of the year, (viz. in the summer months) at ten or 
eleven in the forenoon, the sun-beams fall in the inside of the 
northern part of the choir ; and 'tis then that the spectators, 
who stand on the west side of Whitby church-yard, so as just 
to see the most northerly part of the abbey past the north end 
of Whitby church, imagine they perceive, in one of the highest 
windows there, the resemblance of a woman, arrayed in a 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxvii 

shroud. Though we are certain this is only a reflection, caused 
by the splendour of the sun-beams, yet fame reports it, and it 
is constantly believed among the vulgar, to be an appearance 
of Lady Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified state; be- 
fore which, I make no doubt, the papists, even in these our 
days, offer up their prayers with as much zeal and devotion, as 
before any other image of their most glorified saint." — Charl- 
ton's Hist ory of Whitby, p. 33. 

Note IX. 
A Bishop by the altar stood.— P. 332. 
The well-known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, son 
of Archibald Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was author of 
a Scottish metrical version of the iEneid, and of many other 
poetical pieces of great merit. He had not at this period at- 
tained the mitre. 

Note X. 
. -The huge and sweeping brand. 



That wont of yore in bat tie fray 

Hisfoemans limbs to lop away, 

As woodknife shreds the sapling spray. — P. 333. 
Angus had strength and personal activity corresponding to 
his courage. Spens of Kilspindie, a favourite of James IV. 
having spoken of him lightly, the Earl met him while hawking* 
and, compelling him to single combat, at one blow cut asunder 
his thigh bone, and killed him on the spot. But ere he could 



cxviii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

obtain James's pardon for this slaughter, Angus was obliged 
to yield his castle of Hermitage, in exchange for that of Both- 
well, which was some diminution to the family greatness. — 
The sword, with which he struck so remarkable a blow, was 
presented by his descendant, James, Earl of Morton, after- 
wards Regent of Scotland, to Lord Lindesay of the Byres, 
when he defied Bothweil to single combat on Carberry-hill.— - 
See Introduction to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 
p. ix. 

Note XL. 
And hopest ihou hence unscathed to go? 
No, by St Bryde of Bothweil, no : 
Up draw-bridge, grooms, — what, Warder, ho ! 
Let the portcullis fall. — P. 338. 
This ebullition of violence in the potent Earl of Angus is 
not without, its example in the real history of the House of 
Douglas, whose chieftains possessed the ferocity, with the he- 
roic virtues, of a savage state. The most curious instance oc- 
curred in the case of Maclellan, tutor of Bomby, who, having 
refused to acknowledge the pre-eminence claimed by Douglas 
over the gentlemen and Barons of Galloway, was seized and 
imprisoned by the Earl, in his castle of the Thrieve, on the 
borders of Kirkcudbright-shire. Sir Patrick Gray, commander 
of King James the Second's guard, was uncle to the tutor of 
Bomby, and obtained from the King a " sweet letter of sup- 
plication," praying the Earl to deliver his prisoner into Gray's 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. C xix 

hand. When Sir Patrick arrived at the castle, he was received 
with all the honour due to a favourite servant of the king's 
household ; but while he was at dinner, the earl, who suspect- 
ed his errand, caused his prisoner be led forth and beheaded. 
After dinner, Sir Patrick presented the king's letter to the earl, 
who received it with great affectation of reverence; " and 
took him by the hand, and led him forth to the green, where 
the gentleman was lying dead, and shewed him the manner, and 
said, Sir Patrick, you are come a little too late ; yonder is your 
sister's son lying, but he wants the head : take his body, and 
do with it what you will. Sir Patrick answered again with a 
sore heart, and said, My lord, if ye have taken from him his 
head, dispone upon the body as ye please : and with that call- 
ed for his horse, and leaped thereon ; and when he was on 
horseback, he said to the Earl on this manner, My lord, if I 
live, you shall be rewarded for your labours, that you have 
used at this time, according to your demerits. 

" At this saying the Earl was highly offended, and cried for 
horse. Sir Patrick, seeing the Earl's fury, spurred his horse, 
but he was chaced near Edinburgh ere they left him ; and had 
it not been his lead horse was so tried and good, he had been 
taken." — Pitscottie's History, p. 39. 

Note XII. 
A letter forged f St Jade to speed ! 
Did ever knight so foul a deed? — P. 339. 
Lest the reader should partake of the Earl's astonishment, 



cxx NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

and consider the crime as inconsistent with the manners of 
the period, I have to remind him of the numerous forgeries 
(partly executed by a female assistant) devised by Robert 
of Artois, to forward his suit against the Countess Matilda ; 
which, being detected, occasioned his flight into England, and 
proved the remote cause of Edward the Third's memorable 
wars in France. John Harding, also, was expressly h?red by 
Edward IV., to forge such documents as might appear to esta- 
blish the claim of fealty asserted over Scotland by the English 
monarchs. 

Note XIII. 

Where LenneVs convent closed their march. — P. 343. 
This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost entirely 
demolished. Lennel House is now the residence of my ve- 
nerable friend Patrick Brydone, Esquire, so well known in the 
literary world. It is situated near Coldstream, almost oppo- 
site to Cornhill, and consequently very near to Flodden Field. 

Note XIV. 

The Till by Twisel Bridge.—?, 345. 
On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flod- 
den, Surrey's head quarters were at Barmoor wood, and King 
James held an inaccessible position on the ridge of Flodden- 
hills, one of the last and lowest eminences detached from the 
ridge of Cheviot. The Till, a deep and slow river, winded 
between the armies. On the morning of the 9th Septem- 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxxi 

ber, 1513, Surrey marched in a north-westerly direction, and 
crossed the Till, with his van and artillery, at Twisei-bridge, 
nigh where that river joins the Tweed, his rear-guard co- 
lumn passing about a mile higher, by a ford. This move- 
ment bad the double effect of placing his army between King 
James. and his supplies from Scotland, and of striking the 
Scottish monarch with surprise, as he seems to have relied on 
the depth of the river in his front. But as the passage, both 
over the bridge and through the ford, was difficult and slow, it 
seems possible that the English might have been attacked to 
great advantage while struggling with natural obstacles. I 
know not if we are to impute James's forbearance to want of 
military skill, or to the romantic declaration which Pitscottie 
puts in his mouth, " that be was determined to have his ene- 
mies before him on a plain field," and therefore would suffer 
no interruption to be given, even by artillery, to their passing 
the river. , 

The ancient bridge of Twisel, by which the English crossed 
the Till, is still standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile 
of Gothic architecture, as now rebuilt by Sir Francis Blake, 
Bart., whose excensive plantations have so much improved 
the country around. The gien is romantic and delightful, with 
steep banks on each side, covered with copse, particularly with 
hawthorn. Beneath a tall rock, near the bridge, is a plentiful 
fountain, called St Helen's Well. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH, 



Note XV. 
Hence might they see the full array 
Of either host, for battle fray. — P. 350. 
The reader cannot here expect a full account of the battle 
of Flodden ; but, so far as is necessary to understand the Ro- 
mance, I beg to remind him, that, when the English army, by 
their skilful counter-march, were fairly placed between King 
James and his own country, the Scottish monarch resolved to 
fight ; and, setting fire to his tents, descended from the ridge of 
Flodden to secure the neighbouring eminence of Brankstone, 
on which that village is built. Thus the two armies met, almost 
without seeing each other, when, according to the old poem of 
" Flodden Field," 

The English line stretched east and west, 
And southward were their faces set ; 

The Scottish northward proudly prest, 
And manfully their foes they met. 

The English army advanced in four divisions. On the right, 
which first engaged, were the sons of Earl Surrey, namely, 
Thomas Howard, the admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, 
the knight marshal of the army. Their divisions were separa- 
ted from each other ; but, at the request of Sir Edmund, his 
brother's battalion was drawn very near to his own. The centre 
was commanded by Surrey in person ; the left wing by Sir 
Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire, and of the pala- 
tinate of Chester. Lord Dacres, with a large body of horse, 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxxiii 

formed a reserve. When the smoke, which the wind had 
driven between the armies, was somewhat dispersed, they per- 
ceived the Scots, who had moved down the hill in a similar or- 
der of battle, and in deep silence.* The Earls of Huntley and 
of Home commanded their left wing, and charged Sir Edmund 
Howard with such success, as entirely to defeat his part of the 
English right wing. Sir Edmund Howard's banner was beaten 
down, and he himself escaped with difficulty to his brother's 
division. The admiral, however, stood firm; and Dacre ad- 
vancing to his support, with the reserve of cavalry, probably 
between the interval of the divisions commanded by the bro- 
thers Howard, appears to have kept the victors in effectual 
check. Home's men, chiefly Borderers, began to pillage the 
baggage of both armies ; and their leader is branded, by the 
Scottish historians, with negligence or treachery. On the other 
hand, Huntley, on whom they bestow many encomiums, is said, 
by the English historians, to have left the field after the first 
charge. Meanwhile the admiral, whose flank these chiefs 
ought to have attacked, availed himself of their inactivity, and 
pushed forward against another large division of the Scottish 
army in his front, headed by the Earls of Crawford and Mon- 
trose, both of whom were slain, and their forces routed. On 
the left, the success of the English was yet more decisive ; for 



* Lesquelz Escossois descendirent la d'montaigne en bonne ordre, 
en la maniere que mar client les Allemans, fans parler, nefaire aucun 
bruit." Gazette of the Battle, Pinkerton's History, Appendix, 
Vol. II. p. 456. 



cxxiv NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

the Scottish right wing, consisting of undisciplined Highlanders, 
commanded by Lennox and Argyle, was unable to sustain the 
charge of Sir Edward Stanley, and especially the severe exe- 
cution of the Lancashire archers. The King and Surrey, who 
commanded the respective centres of their armies, were mean- 
while engaged in close and dubious conflict. James, surround- 
ed by the flower of his kingdom, and impatient of the galling 
discharge of arrows, supported also by his reserve under Both- 
well, charged with such fury, that the standard of Surrey was 
in danger. At that critical moment, Stanley, who had routed 
the left wing of the Scottish, pursued his career of victory, and 
arrived on the right flank, and in the rear of James's division, 
which, throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till night 
came on. Surrey then drew back his forces ; for the Scottish 
centre not having been broken, and their left wing being vic- 
torious, he yet doubted the event of the field. The Scottish 
army, however, felt their loss, and abandoned the field of bat- 
tle in disorder, before dawn. They lost, perhaps, from eight 
to ten thousand men, but that included the very prime of their 
nobility, gentry, and even clergy. Scarce a family of eminence 
but has an ancestor killed at Flodden ; and there is no pro- 
vince in Scotland, even at this day, where the battle is men- 
tioned without a sensation of terror and sorrow. The English 
lost also a great number of men, perhaps within one-third of 
the vanquished, but they were of inferior note. — See the only 
distinct detail of the field of Flodden in Pinkerton's History, 
Book XL ; all former accounts being full of blunder and in- 
consistency. 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxxv 

The spot, from which Clara views the battle, must be sup- 
posed to have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the 
English right wing, which was defeated, and in which conflict 
Marmion is supposed to have fallen. 

Note XVI. 

« Brian Tunstall, stainless knight.— *P. 352. 

Sir Brian Tunstall, called, in the romantic language of the 
time, Tunstall the Undefiled, was one of the few Englishmen of 
rank slain at Flodden. He figures in the ancient English poem, 
to which I may safely refer my reader ; as an edition, with full 
explanatory notes, is about to be published by my friend Mr 
Henry Weber. Tunstall, perhaps, derived his epithet of unde- 
filed from his white armour and banner, the latter bearing a 
white cock about to crow, as well as from his unstained loyal- 
ty and knightly faith. His place of residence was Thurland 
Castle. 

Note XVII. 
View not that corpse mistrustfully, 
Defaced and mangled though it be; 
Nor to yon Border castle high 

Look northward with upbraiding eye. — Pp. 370,371. 

There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of 

Flodden. He was killed, says the curious French Gazette, 

within a lance's length of the Earl of Surrey ; and the same 

account adds, that none of his division were made prisoners, 

7 



exxvi NOTES TO CAJNTO SIXTH. 

though many were killed ; a circumstance that testifies the 
desperation of their resistance. The Scottish historians record 
many of the idle reports which passed among the vulgar of their 
day. Home was accused, by the popular voice, not only of 
failing to support the king, but even of having carried him out 
of the field, and murdered him. And this tale was revived in 
my remembrance, by an unauthenticated story of a skeleton, 
wrapped in a bull's hide, and surrounded with an iron chain, 
said to have been found in the well of Home Castle : for 
which, on inquiry, I could never find any better authority, than 
the sexton of the parish having said, that, if the well were clean' 
ed out, he would not be surprised at such a discovery. Home 
was the chamberlain of the king, and his prime favourite ; he 
had much to lose (in fact did lose all) in consequence of James's 
death, and nothing earthly to gain by that event : but the re- 
treat, or inactivity of the left wing, which he commanded, after 
defeating Sir Edmund Howard ; and even the circumstance of 
his returning unhurt, and loaded with spoil, from so fatal a con- 
flict, rendered the propagation of any calumny against him easy 
and acceptable. Other reports gave a still more romantic turn 
to the king's fate, and averred, that James, weary of greatness 
after the carnage among his nobles, had gone on a pilgrimage 
to merit absolution for the death of his father, and the breach 
of his oath of amity to Henry. In particular, it was objected 
to the English, that they could never shew the token of the 
iron belt ; which, however, he was likely enough to have laid 
aside on the day of battle, as encumbering his personal exer- 



NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. cxxvu 

tions. They produce a better evidence, the monarch's sword 
and dagger, which are still preserved in the Herald's College in 
London. Stowe has recorded a degrading story of the disgrace 
with which the remains of the unfortunate monarch were treat- 
ed in his time. An unhewn column marks the spot where James 
fell, still called the King's Stone. 

Note XVIII. 
fanatic Brook 



The fair cathedral stormed and took. — P. 372. 
This storm of Lichfield cathedral, which had been garrisoned 
on the part of the king, took place in the great civil war. Lord 
Brook, who, with Sir John Gill, commanded the assailants, was 
shot with a musket-ball through the visor of his helmet. The 
royalists remarked, that he was killed by a shot fired from St 
Chad's Cathedral, and upon St Chad's day, and received his 
death-wound in the very eye with which, he had said, he hoped 
to see the ruin of all the cathedrals in England. The magni- 
ficent church in question suffered cruelly upon this, and other 
occasions ; the principal spire being ruined by the fire of the 
besiegers. 



Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention the fol- 
lowing particulars: — 
The lines in page 128, 

Whose doom contending neighbours sought, 
Content with equity unbought, 



cxxviii NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 

have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden'g 
beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton. The ballad of 
Lochinvar, p. 258, is in a very slight degree founded on a bal- 
lad called " Katharine Janfarie," which may be found in the 
" Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." 



THE END. 



Edinburgh: 
Printed by James Ballantyne & Co. 



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